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DUBLIN: 
WILLIAM M^GEE, 

COLLEGE, SCHOOL, AND MEDICAL BOOKSELLER, 

1 8 NASSAU STREET. 
1869. 



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CONTRIBUTORS 



T. J. B. B. 




H. W. C. 




R. B. C. 




H. C. 




H. E. 




J. G. 




A. P. G. 




C. G. 




R. P. G. 




W. G. 




T. M. 




J. P. M. 




M. 




C. P. M. 




S. AV. N. 




S. O'G. 




T. H. 0. 




A. P. 




R. R. 




W. R. 




J. T 




J. H. T. 




H. J. T. 




R. Y. T. 




T. E. W. 




J. R. W. 




R. W. 





T. J. B. Brady, M.A., Ex-Sch, 

Henry W. Carson, Sch. 

Robert B. Carson, B.A., Sch. 

Hastings Crossley, B.A., Sch. 

Hercules Ellis, M.A. 

John Galvan, B.A., Ex-Sch. 

Alfred Perceval Graves, B.A., Sch. 

Charles Graves, T>.T>., Lord Bishop of Limerick. 

Robert Perceval Graves, M.A., Ex-Sch. 

William Greer, Sch. 

Thomas Maguire, LL.D., Ex-Sch. 

John P. Mahaffy, M.A., RT.C.D. 

Townsend Mills, M.A., Ex-Sch., l/jiiv. Stud. 

Charles Pelham Mulvany, B.A., Ex-Sch. 

Stawell Webb Nash, B.A. 

Standish O'Grady, B.A., Sch. 

T. H. Orpen, Sch. 

Arthur Palmer, M.A., F.T.C.D. 

Richard Ringwood, Sch. 

William Roberts, M.A., F.T.C.D. 

J. Todhunter, M. Chir. 

J. H. Townsend, B.A. 

H. J. Tweedy. 

R. Y. Tyrrell, M.A., F.T.C.D. 

Thomas E. Webb, LL.D., F.T.C.D. 

J. R. West. 

R. West, Sch. 



I 



CONTRIBUTORS. 



A. 




V. 


B. 


B. 




H. 


C. 


J. 


F. D. 


H. 


J. DeB. . 


B. 


B. F. 


A. 


P. G. 


K. 




G. 


L. 


T. 


M. 


J- 


P. M. 


M 




T. 


H. 0. . 


A. 


W. Q. . 


M 


. R. 


W 


. R. 


J- 


T. 


T. 




A. 


L. W. . 


J. 


F. W. 


W 


. 


J. 


R. W. 


R. 


W. W. . 



Samuel Allen. 
Vaughan Boulger^ Sch. 
T. J. B. Brady, Ex-Sch. 
Hastings Crossley, Sch. 
John F. Davies, Ex-Sch. 
Hubert J. De Burgh. 
Benjamin B. Feltus. 
Alfred P. Graves, Sch. 
John Kirby. 

George Longfield, F.T.C.D. 
Thomas Maguire, Ex-Sch. 
John P. Mahaffy, F.T.C.D. 
TowNSEND Mills, Ex-Sch. 
Thomas H. Orpen, Sch. . 
A. W. Quill, Sch. 
Maxwell Reilly. 
William Roberts, F.T.C.D. 
John Todhunter. 
Robert Y. Tyrrell, F.T.C.D. 
Arthur Law Wade. 
John F. Waller. 
Thomas E. Webb, F.T.C.D. 
John R. West. 
Richard W. West, Sch. 



KOTTABOS. 



DOUBT. 



I. 



THEV Change, they die! We watch them day by day; 

We see them go in weddmg-vobes and hearses, 
Uncaring what may fail or pass away, 

Vnt^ our cUque of friends at last disperses. 



II. 



The curse of work and death, stdl unexpired. 
Clings to our mother-age in all her glory; 

And it appears the Fates are not yet tired 
Of making human life the same old story. 



III. 



Else, why do they who rule us as they will 
Still make the bad on each occasion winners? 

Why do disease and debt and failure sti 1 
Make us such very miserable sinners ? 



IV. 



Alas' all generous faiths are overtopp'd 
By selfish facts ; and I, a fond romancer. 

May question Fate until my mouth is stopp d 
By churchyard dust-Is this the only answer? 



Motto for a Matchbox. 
Penetralia Vestae. 



C. P. M. 



R. B. C. 



PROLOG IM HIMMEL. 

Die drei Erzengel treten vor. 

Raphael. 
Die Sonne tont nach alter Weise 
In Brudersphiiren Wetlgesang, 
Unci ihre vorgeschriebne Reise 
Vollendet sie mit Donnergang. 
Ihr Anblick gibt den Engeln Starke, 
Wenn keiner sie ergrlinden mag; 
Die unbegreiflich hohen Werke 
Sind herrlich, wie am ersten Tag. 

Gabriel. 
Und schnell und unbegreiflich schnelle 
Dreht sich umher der Erde Pracht ; 
Es wechselt Paradieseshelle 
Mit tiefer, schauervoller Nacht; 
Es schliumt das Meer in breiten Fliissen 
Am tiefen Grund der Felsen auf, 
Und Fels und Meer wird fortgerissen 
In ewig schnellem Sphiirenlauf. 

Michael. 
Und Stiirme brausen um die Wette, 
Vom Meer auf^s Land^ vom Land auf's Meer, 
Und bilden \\ lithend eine Kette 
Der tiefstcn Wirkung rings umher ; 
Da flammt ein blitzendes Verheeren 
Dem Pfade vor des Donnerschlags : 
Doch deine Boten, Herr, verchren 
Das sanfte Wandeln deines Tags. 

Zu DREI. 

Der Anblick gibt den Engeln Stiirkc, 
Da keiner dich crgriinden mag, 
Und alle deine hohen Werke 
Sind herrlich, wie am ersten Tag. 

Goethe. 



ininN. 

X0P02. 

aaTpd(Ti fJLokiTiqv ovpavlota-iVt 
hpofjbov akvaov refjivet hiJ3poL<i 

v-^L^pejjbkrai^ ' 
ivknTvevcre S' aXw? 'Trdp.^oro'; layyv 
Aaliwaiv avTo7<;, ovhevl Xtjttt'qv * 

KocrpLOv Be puevei 
^^;<J■^9 d6dvaro<; koI dy7]pa)<;. 
Tala^ S' IBia itoikiXovcjotov 
Tpo')(ohivelT(U Tayp^ d<j)pao-TOV» 
pv/cro<; Kpv€pd<; rjpLap Xevicov 

Stajiietyjra/iivr} * 
KVfiara Be fet pua/cpd Ba\a(T(T7]<; 
^va-dodev akpby crrjpdyycov ef • 

d<TTp(ov h' iv 680?^ 
')(ep(70<s & vypd TS (fyopovvrai,, 
*A<ypi,ot S' dvepboi irvevpuadi \d^poL<i 

^alaV TTOVTM ^V/JLp,L^aVT€<; 

^vve^ov(Ttv ofjbod^, iravra jdp ei^o? 

'^V')(rj vcofia • 
a-repoirai ^ oKorj<; TTpoBpopLOL ^povTr]<; 
€K\d/jb7rovcrtv * TrdpeBpot S' virdrov 

ZrjVO^ €K7}\0t 

OapL^ovatv TTpaorarov <p(b<;. 
*i2? Z€v<; av^ei 'irdfjL^0T0<; lo-'yvv 
Aaipboaiv avrot<;, ovBevl \7]irTrjV • 

KocrpLov Be puevei 
<j>v<Ti,<; dOdvaro^ kol drfr)p(D<^. 

T. M. 



AUBURN. 

Where, then, ah ! where shall poverty reside. 

To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride ? 

If to some common's fenceless limits stray'd. 

He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade. 

Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide. 

And ev'n the bare-worn common is denied. 

If to the city sped — What w^aits him there ? 

To see profusion that he must not share; 

To see ten thousand baneful arts combined 

To pamper luxury, and thin mankind ; 

To see each joy the sons of plea'sure know 

Extorted from his fellow-creature's w^oe. 

Here, while the courtier glitters in brocade. 

There the pale artist plies the sickly trade ; 

Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomps display, 

There the black gibbet glooms beside the way ; 

The dome where pleasure holds her midnight reign. 

Here, richly deckt, admits the gorgeous train : 

Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, 

The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare. 

Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy ! 

Sure these denote one universal joy ! 

Are these thy serious thoughts ? — Ah ! turn thine eyes, 

Where the poor houseless shiv'ring female lies. 

She once, perhaps, in village-plenty blest, 

Has wept at talcs of innocence distrest ; 

Her modest looks the cottage might adorn. 

Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn. 

Now lost to all ; her friends, her virtue fled. 

Near her betrayer's door she lays her head. 

And, pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the showV, 

With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour 

When idly first, ambitious of the town. 

She left 'her wheel and robes of country brown. 

Goldsmith. 



QUANTUM DIMISSA PETITIS PR^STANT ! 

Ergo ubi pauperibus dabitur considere, nolit 

Vicina siquis nobilitate premi ? 
Si pecLis in nullo descriptos limite campos 

Egerit ut sterilis gramina carpat agri, 
Arrogat at dives vel publica jugera campi, 

Pauperibusque situ vel loca senta negat. 
Qu^sierit Romam — quid quaerere proderit immo ? 

Quippe sitit vetitas, Tantalus alter, opes : 
In genus humanum conjuravisse nefandas 

Mille artes, luxus mille alimenta, videt ; 
Quot sibi Patricii delectamenta pararint 

Plebeiis cernit suppeditata malis. 
Scilicet ut Tyrio princeps splendescat in ostro 

Hie grave pallescens textor adurget opus ; 
Longa triumphantes hie pompa celebrat, at illic 

Crux funestatis ingruit atra viis ; 
Hie ubi sub media bacchatur noete voluptas 

Accipiunt festos atria festa choros ; 
Luce nitent lautae reboant clamore Carinas, 

Esseda dum properant dum rutilantque faces : 
'' Nimirum/' dicas, '' tanta inter gaudia nunquam 

Surgit amari aliquid, Isetitia usque viget P^ 
Falleris ah ! demens — i, lumina flecte, puellam 

Contemplare istam quae jacet, alget, eget : 
Ilia, ut paganse cui quondam copia, flebat 

Si narraretur capta puella viro ; 
Digna verecundo casulse decus addere vultu, 

Primula ceu mediis semireducta rubis ; 
Jam projecta suis — projecerat ipsa pudorem — 

En ! corruptoris sternitur ante fores ; 
Et contracta gelu, pluviis tremebunda profusis, 

Flet male felicem corde dolente diem. 
Cum fatua et fieri cupiens urbana Minervam 

Contempsit tenuem carbaseosque sinus. 

T. J.B. B. 



lO 



TO AN EARLY PRIMROSE. 

Mild offspring of a dark and sullen sire ! 
Whose modest form, so delicately fine, 

Was nursed in whirling storms 

And cradled in the winds ; 
Thee, when young spring first questionM winter's sway, 
And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight, 

Thee on this bank he threw. 

To mark his victory. 
In this low vale, the promise of the year, 
Serene, thou openest to the nipping gale. 

Unnoticed and alone, 

Thy tender elegance. 
So Virtue blooms, brought forth amid the storms 
Of chill adversity ; in some lone walk 

Of life, she rears her head. 

Obscure and unobserved ; 
While every bleaching breeze that on her blows, 
Chastens her spotless purity of breast. 

And hardens her to bear 

Serene the ills of life. 

Henry K. White. 



SEA-SHORE STANZA. 

Methinks I fain would lie by the lone sea. 
And hear the waters their white music weave ! 
Methinks it were a pleasant thing to grieve, 

So that our sorrows might companionM be 
By that strange harmony 

Of winds and billows, and the living sound 

Sent down from heaven when the thunder speaks 
Unto the listening shores and torrent creeks. 

When the swollen sea doth strive to burst its bound ! 

Barry Cornwall. 



II 

PRIMITI^ VERIS. 

O BLAND A torvi progeiiies patris ! 
Forma modestam quam tenui graves 
Ventique produxere alumnam 
Imbriferoque sinu procellae; 
Te, quum gravatum jura Hiemis recens 
Jam Ver tyrannum provocat horridum, 
Hac victor in ripa secundae 
Te posuit monumenta pugnae. 
Hie in reducta valle Aquilonibus, 
CEstatis O Spes, objicis asperis, 
Secura fallenti recessu, 
Munditias capitis tenellas. 
Sic ipsa Virtus editur algidas 
Rerum procellas inter ; et angulo 
Semota longinquo serenam 
Tollit inambitiosa frontem. 
llli ira ventorum obstrepit innocens 
Intaminatse^ quodque parum juvet, 
Detergit^ adversique pectus 
Roborat in mala dura fati. 



J. R. W. 



IDEM LATINE. 

Deserta ponti visere litora^ 
Audire fluctus mens avet^ albicans 
Qua spuma vocalem coroUam 
Nectit aquis. Socios dolores 
Fudisse tali fert animus loco ; 
Sic cum quereiis se magicum melos 
Misceret aurarum^ gemente 
Oceano, quotiens caducos 
Caelum fragores detonuit, vada 
Aurita diis vocibus adloquens ; 
Ciim saevus eruptis minatur 
Objicibus vagus ire pontus. 



H. C. 



12 



SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT. 

HERO SONG. 

Sir Humphrey Gilbert walks the deck, 

Amid the howling blast; 
His brave old ship ^s a sinking wreck, 

Each moment seems her last. 
But still his crew he seeks to cheer, 

And cries, with lifted hand — 
" It is as near to heaven from here 

By sea as by the land ! '' 

He lifts the Gospel of the Lord 

Before his sinking crew, 
And cries — " Men, hearken to the word 

This book reveals to you. 
This book says. Christian, banish fear, 

God holds you in His hand. 
And 'tis as near to heaven from here. 

By sea as by the land.'' 



H. E. 



FROM MELEAGER. 

Now blooms the young white violet ; now blooms, made glad 

with showers, 
Narcissus; now the lilies bloom, o'er mountains wandering 

free ; 
And now, beloved of lovers, consummate flower mid flowers. 

Fresh blooms Persuasion's fragrant rose, my own Zcnophile; — 
Ye meads, why deck your tresses forth with smiles of wasted 

light? 
Than all your garlands breathing sweet this girl is far more 

bright. 

R. P. G. 



^3 
THE OLD PARSON AND THE NEW. 

A LAY ADDRESSED TO DIVINITY STUDENTS. 

An old song, somewhat alterM, to suit events of late, 

Of a fine old Pluralist Parson living at a bountiful rate, 

Who held three separate rectories, and swore by Church and State, 

And drank the glorious memory of Sixteen eighty-eight. 

Like a fine old Parson of the old school, 

And an old-school Parson. 

With a fine old house located in a fashionable square, 
And an old church tumbling to decay, for which he didn't care. 
And a fine old chancel almost by the winds and rain laid bare. 
And a fine old peal of bells which, except on Sunday, never rung 
for prayer, 

Like a fine old Parson of the old school, 

And an old-school Parson. 

With fine, fashionable daughters, who could dance and sing and 

play, 1 . t, . 

Though visiting the poor and sick was not much m their way, 
And a fine old pack of hounds (for which he made the parish pay). 
And a fine old Bible and Prayer-book, which heM somehow sworn 

to obey, 

Like a fine old Parson of the old school. 

And an old-school Parson. 

Who, drinking too much fine old Port one day with Squire Jones, 
Died of delirium tremens, as all the parish owns ; 
And his successor announced his coming in a letter dated — glones, 
#n ge gt^t of ge f tanslation of ^t. ^img^erosH's boius, 

Like a fine young Parson of the new school, 

And a new-school Parson. 

Who at once gave up the Rectory house, and sold off all the hounds, 
And lived in a cottage (he called it ge g^bbage) within the church's 

grounds. 
And among the poor and sick every morning went his rounds. 
And to repair the chancel subscribed a thousand pounds. 
Like a fine young Parson of the new school. 
And a new-school Parson. 



Who preach'd each Sunday morning in surpHce, hood, and stole, 
And, working in the parish with all his heart and soul, 
He caught a fever at last, and died of it, so the whole ' 
Parish subscribed for an altar-tomb, with- -,yicase prane for ge soul 

(9f lljis fgiu gong |larsonnc of tbe netoc ^cljool, 

gnh this nffo-sdjool |arsoim£. 



THE SEQUEL, IN WHICH THE PARSON OF THE NEW SCHOOL IS 
SUCCEEDED BY ANOTHER OF THAT ILK. 

And to him succeeded one who worked in quite a different way, 
And with candles, copes, and crosses, made a wonderful display, 
And insisted upon double choral service every dav, 
And preach'd such sermons as made most peoj,!c curse instead 
of pra\'. 

Like a new young Priest of the Anglicans, 
And a new young Anglican Priest. 

Until to the Court of Arches they brought this erring ecclesiastic 
Because they thought his prayers too long, and his piety too 

gymnastic, 
Where Sir J. F. Fust (as every one nuist) condemned his poses 

plastic, 
And his reading of the Articles as entirely too elastic, 

Like a new young Priest of the Anglicans, 
And a new young Anglican Priest. 

Who to give up his living was ordered very soon. 

And then against his Archbishop cursed and swore like a dragoon, 

And who went to Rome on a pilgrimage with staff and sandal 

shoon. 
And at parting was greeted w ith words that refer to a Connaught- 
inan and to a spoon, 

r>ike a new young Priest of the Anglicans, 
And a new young Anglican Priest. 

Motto for l\iftn-s(iirs. 

" CcSpitC \ i\ ()." 1 loR ACK. 

S. O'G. 



LOUISE. 

(BY A MAGAZINE POET OF THE PERIOD.) 
I. 

Wavering lily-buds are fair 

In the spaces of the spring. 
Comes a wealth of mellower air. 
Comes a tenderer whispering. 
Angels^ molten glories these : 
Why not thou, Louise ! 

II. 

Crimson lily-fiowers are glad 

In the glow of great-eyed June ; 
Nightingales divinely mad 

Flinging raptures to the moon. 
Rebels ministers are these : 
Why not thou, Louise 1 

III. 

Orbed lily-fruits are rare 

In the autumn^s cloistral shades. 
Ere the star-sown heavens are bare, 
Ere the verdurous twilight fades ; 
Dccdal panophes are these : 
Why not thou, Louise ! 

IV. 

Lisping lily-leaves are sad 

In the wintering woodlands frore ; 
Sombre skies austerely clad. 

White with waning more and more. 
Shudderings of Earth's harp are these : 
Why not thou, Louise ! 

J.T. 



The Song of the Shirt. 

AiXiVGV, aiXivov. 

S. W. N. 



i6 



EVE^S LAMENTATION. 



'* Oh, unexpected stroke, worse than of death ! 

Must I thus leave thee, Paradise ? thus leave 

Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, 

Fit haunt of gods ? where 1 had hope to spend 

Ouiet, though sad, the respite of that day 

That must be mortal to us both. O flowers, 

That never will in other climate grow. 

My earlv visitation, and my last 

At even, which I bred up with tentler hand 

From the first opening bud, and gave yc names ; 

Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank 

Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount ? 

Thee, lastly, nuptial bower, by me adorned. 

With what to sight or smell was sweet ; from thee 

How shall I part, and whither wander down 

Into a lower world, to this obscure 

And wild ? how shall we breathe in other air 

Less pure, accustomed to immortal fruits ? '' 

Milton. 



MEMORY. 

" Thus the ideas, as well as children, of our youth often die 

before us ; and our minds represent to us those tombs to which 

we are approaching: where, though the brass and marble remain, 

yet the inscriptions arc cflaced l)y time, and the imagery moulders 

away.'' 

Locke, 



17 



IDEM GRtECE. 

Otjji CO? aekiTTW, KaLpla<; vTveprepav 
irkrjryetaa^ rfjSe avfjbcfiopa ScoXkvfiai. 
cb Oeiov aXao'^y Sec a ap eKKelTretv ifiif 
jeveOXiov re (^rjo-aav, ev& vito<tklov 
%apa fjb ij(f)€ip7re Bacfiovcov /card^io^' 
iv f) TO \ei^6ev T7]<; re vvv fJLerai^/jiLov 
fcal T^9 (f)epov<Tr)(i r)fjb6pa<; Plov riXo^ 
€Krj\o^ a^etv tJXttkt, d<^iXov aSX 6[jb(o^. 
6) '^alper avOi], /SXaardvecv yap ovSa/jUov 
fjueWijaer aXXo6\ o)V rpocfyrjv afjb rjXltp 
TeXXoVTL 7rp(OT0)V KOI ^OlvovTi XotaOiwv 
<f>OLT03<Ta %6/?crl fjuaXOaKah irapeiyopu'Tqv, 
a T oDvo/xa^ov KaXvKo<; gk Xo')(^evjjidrcov ' 
Tt? vvv rdS' v/jicov e/crpecpcov Trpo? rjXiov 
hiaKpLvel re cf)vXa, /cat Oeta^ airo 
Kp7)vrj<i irape^ei ')(^p7]<TL/jLa)TaTov <ydvo<; ; 
ere o av TrpocravSav, o) crreyo<; yaiirjXioVy 
iravvaTaTov OeXoifjit, iraaiv eKirpeirh, 
€1 jjboi TLv 6(7 fxy ecal x^^^d o-ci('Veiv ^iXel * 
croO hr] arepetaa ttw? d/ubei-ylrco/juaL irXaval^; 
eSpcbv (TKoreiV'qv dvrl rcovS' iprj/jULav ; 
avpa<; SvaavXov ttw? fjue 6peyjrov(np irvoaly 
a/y7]pdToc<; KdpiroKTLV SB' eldcafjbivrjv ; 

W. M. J. M. 



MNEMOSYNE. 

Plurima sic mentis species^ mihi si qua juventa 
Grata fuit dulci^ mox instar prolis, obivit^ 
Incolumi genitore : simillimaque ipsa videtur 
Mens excepturo nostri caput omne sepulcro. 
Stent Parii lapides, stent aera perennia : voces 
Quas scalpsit pietas non immemor, oblinet instans 
Annorum series^ fugaque innumerabilis sevi. 

H. C. 



i8 



TO CASTARA IN A TRANCE. 

Forsake me not so soone : Castara^ stay; 

And as I breake the prison of my clay. 

He fill the canvas with m' expiring breath, 

And with thee saile o'er the vast maine of death. 

Some cherubin thus as we passe shall play 

'' Goe happy twins of love" : the courteous sea 

Shall smooth her wrinkled brow : the winds shall sleep, 

Or onely whisper musicke to the deepe. 

Every ungentle rocke shall melt away ; 

The Sirens sing to please, not to betray. 

Th' indulgent skie shall smile ; each starry quire 

Contend which shall afford the brighter fire. 

While Love, the pilot, steeres his course so even, 
Neere to cast anchor till we reach at Heaven. 

W. Habington. 



THE FISHER-MAIDEN. 

(FROM HEINE.) 

Thou fair young fisher-maiden, 

Come steer thy boat to land, 
And rest thee here beside me ; 

WeMl whisper hand in hand. 

Rest on my heart thy bosom. 

And, fearless, trust to me ; 
Who daily, thus unfearing, 

Can'st trust the stormy sea. 

My heart is like that ocean. 

With storm, and ebb, and flow ; 
But brightest pearls are sleeping 

In silent depths below. 

C. P. M. 



1^9 



IDEM LATINE. 

Hie maneas paullum, neu me, mea vita, relinquas ; 

Haud mora quin rumpam vincula carnis erit : 
Decedente anima mihi turgida vela tumebunt ; 

Cocyti tecum est trajicienda palus. 
Nos dea per tenebras nos arridebit euntes. 

Voce melos moduians — '' Ite in amore pares/' 
Quin nereus solvet frontem, Caurusque quiescens 

Non nisi suaviloquo murmure fallet aquas. 
Vanescent scopuli ; Sirenes carmina fundent — 

(Decepisse olim, jam placuisse juvat.) 
Annuet inceptis Phoebus, dum sidera flamma 

Certatim accendent lucidiore faces. 
Tendet Amore viam clavum moderante phaselus, 

Donee in Elysiis ancora sidet aquis. 

H. M. C.&R, B. C. 



IDEM LATINE. 



Hue ades, Oceani gavisa diutius undis ; 

Ad litus fragiiem dirige, nympha, ratem. 
Hie tibi erit mecum requies ; interque susurros 

Jungetur dextrae dextera nostra tuae. 

Labere in amplexus nostros, securaque tandem 
Crede, precor, forti, fortis et ipsa, viro. 

Ipsa soles audax remis urgere phaselum 
Vimque soles venti temnere, vimque freti. 

More maris tumidi nostri jactantur amores : 
Ipse Amor in varias itque reditque vices. 

Clarius elucet radiis argentea puris 

Si qua sub aequoreo marmore gemma latet. 

W. B. G. 



20 



THE HOUSE OF ADMETUS. 

(Alcestis, 567-605.) 

Hail ! House of the open door, 

Hail ! home of the chieftain free ! 
The Lord of the Lyre himself of yore 

DeignM to inhabit thee. 
In tliy halls, disguised in his shepherd^s weeds, 
He endured for a while to stay. 

Through the upland rocks, 

To the feeding flocks, 
Piping the pastoral lay. 

And the spotted Lynx was tame 

With the joy of the mighty spell ; 
And, a tawny troop, the Lions came 

From the leafy Othrys dell ; 
From the woods where the tall pines waved their locks, 
Still as the lute would play. 

Light tripped the Fawn 

O^er the level lawn. 
Entranced by the genial lay. 

The house where the Lord Admetus bides 

Is blest for the Pythian^s sake — 
Fast by the shores that skirt the tides 

Of the pleasant Boebian Lake. 

His fallows and fields the Molossians bound 

To the stall of the Steeds of Day, — 

And to airy sweep 

Of ^Egean steep 
All Pelion owns his sway. ■ 

1 

He will welcome the stranger with moistened lid, 

Though his hall he hath openM wide; 
Wailing the dead in her chamber hid, 

The loved that hath lately died. 



21 



For the noble born is on high thoughts bent, 
And the good are the truly wise ; 
And deep in my breast 
Doth the firm faith rest. 
That his hopes from the dust will rise. 

T. E. W. 



For men unexpectedly recommended for Honours from Catechetical 

Ordinary. 
" Turn de salute, mox pro victoria certant/' 

Agricola. 

H. C. 

Undetected Plagiarism of Tennyson from Horace. 

'' Seu voce nunc mavis acuta." 
"The clear-voiced mavis swelleth.'' — Claribel. 

Inscription for the Gi-aves' Family Fault. 
"Data sunt sua fata Sepulcris." 

R. Y. T. 

The Cessation of Crinoline noticed by Euripides. 
Aw aihe TTcttSe? eK rpo'x^cov Treiravfievai, 
Sret'xpvarcv. — Medea. 



Apology for the College Beer. 
'De mortuis nil nisi bonum." 



J. H. T. 

R. Y. T. 

Yaiikee habits among the Greeks. 
^ ETV(f)6 KaveiTTve. 

Antigone. 

T. H. O. 

Unsympathetic Reply of Py lades to Orestes' Tale of Woe. 
Uavra ravr iv ojjb^acnv, 

EuRip. Orestes, 785. 

J. H. T. 
Euripides in favour of Ready-made Tailoring. 
Ti Tapp7)T avafjuerprjcrao-Oac fxe Bel ; 

J. H. T. 



22 



A VOTE. 



This only grant me^, that my means may lie 
Too low for envy, for contempt too high ; 

Some honour would I have, 
Not from great deeds, but good alone : 
Th' unknown are better than th' illknown ; 

Rumour can ope the grave ! 
Acquaintance I would have, but when ^t depends 
Not on the number, but the choice, of friends ; 

Books should, not business, entertain the light; 
And sleep as undisturbM as death my night. 

My house a cottage more 
Than palace, and should fitting be 
For all my use, no luxury : 

My gardens painted o^er 
With nature's hand, not art's, should pleasure yield 
Horace might en\y in his Sabine field. 

Thus would I double my life's fading space. 
For he who runs it well twice runs his race : 

And in this true delight. 
These unbought sports and happy state, 
I would not fear nor wish my fate ; 

But boldly say each night, 
" To-morrow let my sun his beams display. 
Or in clouds hide them ; T have lived to-day." 

Cowley. 



Advice to a Person inisuccessj)/! in gnessing a Riddle. 
"Aequam memento Rebus in arduis 
Servare mentcm."— Horace. 

C. G. 

Motto for a IVinter Morning's Bath. 

"Deposito pariter cum veste timore." 

H. W. C. 



^3 



HOC ERAT IN VOTIS. 

Detur minor res invidia^ neque 
Fastidienti tenuia sordeat; 

Sed Fama ne desit precanti, 

Fama bonis bene parta factis. 
Nam nomen amplum deprecor inclyti, 
Mallem latenter vivere quam male 

Audire; Rumori sepulchri 

Porta patet Stygiseque fauces ! 
Turbam salutantum atria ne vomant, 
Commendet at mi quemque fides sua ; 

Nee luce me rixae forenses 

Sollicitent mediusque Janus 
Libris vacantem ; grata quies mihi 
Sit nocte^ Leto sit similis sopor; 

Et munda contingant^ nocentes 

Nescia suppeditare luxus^ 
Tecta apta cultu_, non Laris aemula 
Lauti potentum ; nee sciat addere 

Ars ulla qusesitos honores 

Sponte sua nitidis agellis 
Flacco invidendis. Sic geminas licet 
Duxisse vitas^ nam spatia integrat 

Bina ille qui vitae supremam 

Innocuus petit usque metam ; 
Ah ! tanta nullo si maneat quies 
Venalis auro ! nee mihi deprecer 

Cultrum verendarum Sororum 

Nee nimium querar esse filum, 
Sed sorte degam laetus_, et in dies 
Dixisse fas sit, " Viximus, optimus 

Vel sole eras puro_, vel atra 

Nube polum Pater occupato/^ 

R. Y. T. 



Invita Cerere/^ "Against the Grain. •'^ 

J. H. T. 



24 



THE FLIGHT OF THE MUSES, 

CAUSED BY AN ORDER OF THE BOARD OF T. C. D. 

October 2,-^, 1868. 

Last Monday earlv^ cold the morn and chilly 

While Freshmen of their homes lay dreaming still. 

Ere honest Christy had his rounds begun, 

I issued forth to meet the morning sun. 

Long hath it been, long may it be, my use 

To court Apollo ere I court the Muse. 

I gainM old Trinity^s most ancient square. 

When, lo ! a sound of sighs oppressM the air : 

My eyes I raised — believe it, future years ! 

There stood a heavenly maid dissolved in tears. 

A silver radiance from her raiment gleamed — 

A heavenly maid ! but sorely vexM she seem'd. 

By rarest beauty, noblest majesty, 

I knew the sternest Muse, Melpomene : 

Her hair, more golden than the golden west, 

RainM on her shoulders and her heaving breast — 

Her heaving breast, her eyes suffused with flame. 

The secret anguish of her soul proclaim : 

The vine wreath from her brows was rent away ; 

The club of Hercules rejected lay ; 

But in her hand, oh strange to poets' rhymes ! 

She held a copy of the " IRISH TIMES." 

Full on the leading article she gazed. 

And, as she looked, her eyes with fury blazed. 

But see ! more wondrous ! there appal my eyes 

Eight radiant figures hovering in the skies : 

The Aonian sisters ! they in slow, sad wheel. 

Circle the summit of the Campanile : 

Not so, quick swallows bid their nests good-bye 

In autunm, when September frosts they fly. 

I"'ain to be gone, unwilling yet to go. 

They secmM to beckon her who snt below: 

'^ Fly, sister, fly, ere dawn the rosy hours — 

Fly and abandon these ungrateful towers.'* 



^5 

She heard, she rose ; but first her passion broke, 

And thus the Muse in choking accents spoke : 

" Farewell ungrateful, ^tis the Board^s decree. 

Forgetful of my Porson and of me ! 

Forgetful of the glory and the fame 

That I have shed around your once scornM name. 

With niggard hands their gifts the gods dispense ; 

They gave you genius, but denied you sense ; 

Genius that lifts you o^er the Nations far 

As from Orion is the Northern star; 

In sense you are the rest as far below 

As is the Liffey from the shining Po. 

For now the sacred Board no more allows 

Greek"^ verse to grace the Scholar of the House ; 

Oh for the days when yet no leveHing cry 

Was echoed from the halls of Trinity : 

Ere cried our statesmen, stuffed with stale research, 

' Down with Iambics and the Irish Church ! ' 

And Lowe, cold railer at Hellenic lore, 

JoinM deadly Gladstone, drunk with hellebore.f 

Gone is the test, the easy test that once 

Could separate the scholar from the dunce : 

Gone are the days, the golden days of men. 

When every parson could Iambics pen. 

Then Alma Mater welcomed with hurrah 

Her sober Grecians entering from Armagh : 

The mild Caesura dealt its genial laws 

And boors grew polishM under Porson^s pause. 

Base was the wretch, condemned to long disgrace. 

Who dared a spondee in the fourth foot place ; 

Then even the peasant boasted lines to scan. 

And learnM to venerate himself as man. 

Soon rose the music of your whispers wild. 

And Hellas wonderM at her western child : 

From reedy Cam I shook my wings and flew, 

And hoped to find a dearer home with you. 

* Greek verse has since been reinstated in its pristine dignity at the Scholarship 
Examination. 

t c.f. ebria veratro, Persius. 



But hear the sacred Board : ' H^is all my eye, 

There lies no maeic in senarii : 

A man may carry just as much weight with him 

Who never learnM a foot of ancient rhythm/ 

Be it so then : the well-tried code discard. 

And sell your learning at so much per yard : 

Let cultivation yield to pelf, and then 

YouMl make no men of taste, no gentlemen. 

Eager to profit by the grand reform_, 

I see the noble counter-jumpers swarm : 

M.A/s, like Beales, shall ow^n your handiwork, 

But hope no more a Goldsmith or a Burke. 

And now farewell, to my own Greece I fly. 

Where tall Olympus mingles with the sky : 

Vainly IVe wanderM through tlV ungenial earth ; 

No land so dear as that which gave me birth. 

There my own Sophocles, begged from Pluto^s reign, 

With Brady, Tyrrell, and great Cullinane, 

On meads of lotus and of asphodel. 

With mighty Homer shall immortal dwell. 

No more pale candidates for Fellowship — 

No more Dan Duncan waiting for a tip ; 

No giant Tyrant of the menial brood,^ 

No stalwart Sizars rushing to their food ; 

But calm from Helicon wx^ll view below 

Green valleys, and the silver streams that flow : 

And thou, my servant, if thou faithful prove. 

And for the Muses keep thy zealous love. 

Thou, too, shalt join the band, to death denied, 

And live and sing for ever by my sidc.^^ 

She ceased : for now the chapel belFs dire boom 

Broke, loudly clanging, through the morning gloom : 

Like mists which flee before the sun's bright face, 

The sacred sisters vanishM into space. 

A. P. 

Janitorum Principcm llingsionum sine diibio innuit pocta noster. 

J'oolscap. " Chartae ineptae" — Horace. 

H. J. T. 



^7 



FROM RUFINUS. 
This wreath of beauteous flowers I send to thee. 
Woven by mme own hands, my Rhodocle ; 
See here the rose-cup glow, the lily shine, 
See anemone with bright dew-drops wet, 
Se^ fair narcissus, honey-moist, combine 
With the dark purple-gleaming violet. 
Crown, then, but not in pride, thy lovely brow ; 
Both bloom and pass away, the wreath and thou. 

R. P. G. 



JEALOUSY. 

Hie dextrum Glycerae claudit latus, ille sinistrum; 
Hei mihi ! quod ternum non habet una latus ! 

T. H. O. 



HENDECASYLLABICS. 

From Catullus. 

Weep, fond Venus ; ye Cupids, fall a grieving : 
Mourn, if any be left of kindly mortals j 
Dead and cold is my darling's little sparrow, 
Dearer e'en than the light unto his mistress. 
For most winsome he was, and knew the maiden 
All as well as the maiden knew her mother. 
Never nestled he in another bosom, 
Though heM hither and thither hop around her 
Ever chirping, to charm his mistress only. 
Now he flits o'er that highway lost in shadow. 
Whence all hope of return is unavailing. 
Ill betide ye then, glooms of hateful Orcus, 
Most insatiably feasting on the fairest. 
Ye have stolen the fairest of all sparrows ; 
Cruel deed it was : O unhappy sparrow, 
' Tis for thee that my darling is lamenting, 
' Tis for thee that her eyes are red with weeping. 

A. P. G. 



28 



GELLERT^S MONUMENT VON OESER. 

Als Gellert, dcr geliebte, schied;, 

Manch gutes Herz im Stillen weinte, 

Auch manches matte schiefe Lied 

Sich mit dem reinen Schmerz vereinte ; 

Und jeder Stumper bei dem Grab • 

Ein Bliimchcn an die Ehrenkrone, 

Ein Scherflein zu des Edlen Lohne, 

Mit vielzufriedner Miene gab : 

Stand Oeser seitwiirts von den Leuten 

Und fiihlte den Geschiednen, sann 

Ein bleibend Bild_, ein lieblich ,Deuten 

Auf den verschwundnen werthen Mann ; 

Und sammelte mit Geistesfliig 

Im Marmor alles Lobes Stammeln, 

Wie wir in einen engen Krug 

Die Asche des Geliebten sammeln. 



Goethe. 



"BREAK, BREAK, BREAK/' 

Break, break, break. 
On thy cold grey stones, O sea ! 
And would that my tongue xould utter 
The thoughts that arise in me. 

O well for the fisherman's bov 
That he shouts with his sister at play ; 
And well for the sailor lad 

That he sings in his boat on the bay. 

And the stately ships move on 
To their haven under the hill ; 
But oh for the touch of a vanisli'd hand. 
And the sound of a voice that is still ! 



Break, break, break. 
At the foot of thy crags, O sea ! 
But the tender grace of a day that is dead 
Will never come back to me. 

Tennyson 



Z9 



iERE PERENNIUS. 



Mundi delicias dolore flebant 

Abreptum tacito Catullum amici ; 

Et carmen vapidum improbumque multuni 

Jungebat lacrymis inanem hiatum : 

Baronum chorus ad rogum secutus 

Addebat sua quisque serta^ magno 

Laudem ut ipse viro daret perempto. 

Nee non mirifice sibi placebat. 

At spernens vacuum Myron tumultum 

Sensit pectore imaginem Catulli, 

Et promsit moriturum in aeva nunquam 

Quod cari simularet ora signum. 

Solus quae titubabat ante Fama 

Hie norat dare marmori tenaci, 

Angustam socii velut reponit 

jEqualis cineres dolens in urnam. 

J. P. M. 



IDEM LATINE. 



DuM gelidis glaucas cautes mare verberat undis. 

Cur quae mens agitat lingua referre neget ? 
Felix heu ! nimium parvus piscator^ arena 

Quocum ludit ovans consociata soror : 
Tuque^ puer, felix nimium^ cui littora cantus 

Curva sinus reddunt, dum vada lintre secas ! 
Non humilem cessat portum ratis alta subire : 

Cessat nota manus^ vox et amata silet. 
Frangantur scopulis undae : non temporis acti 

Bis tenerum florem carpere fata sinunt. 



M, 



30 



HUMILITY. 

The bird that soars on highest wing, 
Builds on the ground her lowly nest; 

And she that doth most sweetly sing, 
Sings in the shade, when all things rest. 

In lark and nightingale we see 
What honour hath humility. 



LAND AND SEA. 

That is a farmer's, this a sailor's grave ; 
One end aw^aits the land and one the wave. 



SUMNERO CUIDAM RESPONDET PYTHIA VATES. 

^ApKahlrfv fjb alT€t<; ; /jueya /jl alreU ' ov tol Scocra). 
UoWol ev 'ApKa^LT) PaKav7)(^ar/0L avhpe^ eaao 
OIl a airoKwXvaovcnv. — Herod. B. I. 

You ask me for Canada, President Grant; 

This is coming it, rather, and have it you shan't ; 
Many beef-eating farmers can Canada send 

To the battle, and THEY will prevent you, my friend. 

A. P. 



" IF I HAD A DONKEY." 

Si mihi forte foret qui pergere nollet asellus, 
Mene dolaturum tcrgora fuste putes ? 

Non ego, sed placidis demulcens pectora verbis 
Nutrimcnta simul, blanditiasque darem. 

I mihi dulce decus, quo non praestantior alter, 
Quadrupedum princeps, perge, Eduarde, precor. 

J 



The Home Secretary on hearing the Clerkenwell explosion. 

" Fragor aurem 
Percutit, evcntum Viridis quo colligo Panni." — Juvenal. 

A. P. G. 



31 



IDEM LATINE. 

Qu^ coeli in liquidos pennis altissima tractus 
Tendit, humi nidum condere gaudet avis ; 

Cantat in umbrosis latebris,, quum cuncta quiescant, 
Cui datur aligerum vincere voce genus. 

Sic Philomela_, decus quantum sit temnere magna^ 
Praecipit exemplo — sic et alauda docet. 

W. R. 



IDEM GR^CE. 
Tfj fjbev 766)^709, TTj 8e vavpdrrj^ avrjp 
Kelrat • reXevTTjv Kv/jLa yrj t ej^et /jbtav. 



R. R. 



FACIT INDIGNATIO VERSUS. 

Regnum pronis infirmius annis 
Unde fit ? Unde velut vitiato sanguine corpus 
Turbatur, penitusque revellitur ordine toto ? 
Quum de seque suisque nihil Plebecula curat ; 
Quum fimus ante fores^ et stercore foeda suillo 
Limina^ putenti quum stagna virentia caule 
Utrinque exhalant, te praetereunte^ mephitim ! 
Fit domus hie coeni congestus acervus_, abactis 
Stramineo soHs radiis auraque salubri 
Tegmine ; sive focus collectis fustibus ardet, 
Luteus erumpit per valvas fumus hiantes. 
Forsitan et videas perfracto in pariete rimam 
Angustam — quis enim sanus putet esse fenestram ? 
Atqui sic voluit catus ohm conditor aulae ; 
Inde fenestra quidem^ donee male saucia vitrum 
Rima suum tandem pannis reparetur avitis ; 
Intrusa tum veste dies extruditur antro. 
Externa pejora domo penetralia; lectus 
(Proh pudor !) exiguus recubantibus unus avenae 
Sufficiet cunctis quot eodem sub Lare vivunt — - 
Uxori puerisque decern totidemque puellis 



32 

Cum domino ! Quanti risus^ spectacula quanta, 
Caenantes ! (porta vix clausa, vidimus ipsi) 
Scrofa fero casulae patre cultior assidet una 
Cum dominis (quin hos etiam appellare sodales 
Debueram) fundente dapes uxore marito 
Squalidiore ipso ; media sibi quisque patella 
Radices avido — quippe est cibus unions — ungui 
Praeripit elixas. Consumpto quod satis, omnes 
Inde vias passim repetunt precibusque lacessunt 
Quicunque occurrat festinantemque morantur ; 
" Des aliquid, generose, seni/^ pater ore misello 
Succinit; at conjux — neque enim comitata maritum est — 
Patriciam ante domum nutus expectat heriles : 
^' Da viduae," clamat, ^^ Da mucida frusta, magister ! 
Sic tibi Di Superi quodcumque cupiveris addant V* 
Mittitur immunis — domino mala cuncta precatur. 
Quocirca, lector, monitus cave ne quid ineptus 
Ignoto dederis, specioso nomine quamvis 
Poscat opem. Longe pars maxima flagitiorum 
Consilio recte faciendi admittitur. Assem 
Qui mendicanti mediis in quadriviis dat, 
Stultior est quam qui decies centena barathro 
Mandat. Scilicet hie unum se laeserit, ille 
Perniciem rerum clademque locaverit auctor, 
Inscius et Patriae vigiles adjuverit hostes. 
Conducit qui vivat humi, grave dedecus, orbis 
Opprobrium, gnavas qui fucus inutilis erret 
Inter apes ! Quid agit ? Quid vivo opus ? Asse negato, 
Quaerendus labor est, augendae accesserit urbi 
Multa manus. .... 

R. W. 



Printed by Porteous and Gibbs, t8 Wicklow Street, Dublin. 



KOTTABOS 



Criii: Coll: guh 

Term : Mich : 
1869. 



IIo\v<; Be KOTTa^cov apar/fib<; 
. . . a%et /xe\o9 iv Bofjuocaiv. 




SECOND EDITION. 

DUBLIN: 
WILLIAM MCGEE, 18 NASSAU STREET. 

LONDON : BELL AND DALDY. 
1869. 

A// rights reserved. 



PORTEOUS AND GIBBS, 

PRINTERS, 

18 WICKLOW STREET. DUBLIN. 



CONTRIBUTORS. 

S. A. ... Samuel Allen, LL.B. 

V- B. ... Vaughan Boulger, Sch. 

B- ■•• T. J. B. Brady, M.A., Ex-Sch, 

J- S. C. ... James S. Cluff, B.A., Ex-Sch. 

H. C. ... Hastings Crossley, B.A., ^^/?. 

J- F. D. ... John F. Davies, M.A., Ex-Sch, 

H. J. De B. ... Hubert J. De Burgh, B.A. 

J- G. ... John Galvan, B.A., Ex-Sch. 

T- M. ... Thomas Maguire, LL.D., Ex-Sch. 

W. R. ... William Roberts, M.A., F.T.C.D. 

J- T. ... J. Todhunter, M. Chir. 

T. ... R. Y. Tyrrell, M.A., F.T.C.D. 

J. F. W. ... John F. Waller, LL.D. 

S. M. W. ... Samuel M. Watson, B.A. 

W. ... Thomas E. Webb, LL.D., F.T.C.D. 

R. W, W, ... Richard W. West, Sck 



1 



SONNET. 

(From the Italian.) 

Sweet voice of her, my sweetest love, that now 
Filleth with clearest tones the dusky room, 
Where scarce, amid the peaceful, happy gloom, 

I see my dear one^s fair and lofty brow. 

Ah, me ! that time and fate would but allow 
This moment for my lot to stretch to doom. 
Here by this rose-wreathed window ^midst the bloom. 

Where flowers breathe out their soul, and through the bough 

Of yon dim spectral elm the pale stars gleam. 
While the sweet siren voice I love so well 

" Utters such dulcet breath.^' Oh, joy supreme, 
Beyond the lot that ancient poets tell 

Befell Adonis, who, in deathless dream. 
In plains Elysian sleeps on asphodel. 

S. M. W, 



THE BYRON SCANDAL. 

" Stat nominis umbra " — this will never be 
Inscribed on Byron's matchless verse, I trow ; 

A few short weeks, and we shall surely see 

Upon Macmillan's "Nominis umbra Sto(we).'' 

J. G. 



38 



BILLY TAYLOR. 

Billy Taylor was a brisk young fellow. 

Full of mirth and full of glee. 
And his mind he did discover 

To a maiden fair and free. 

Four-and-twenty brisk young fellows. 

Clad in jackets' blue array. 
And they took poor Billy Taylor 

From his true love out to sea. 

His true love she followM after, 

Under the name of Richard Carr, 
And her hands they were bedaubed 

With the nasty pitch and tar. 

An engagement came on the very next morning. 

Bold she fought among the rest ; 
The wind aside did blow her jacket. 

And discover^ her lily-white breast. 

Now, when the captain he came for to hear on it. 
Says he, '' What wind has blown you to me ? '' 

'^ Kind sir, I be come for to seek my true love, 
Whom you pressM. and sent to sea." 

" If you be come for to seek your true love, 

He from his ship is gone away ; 
P'raps you'll find him in London streets, ma'am. 

Walking with his lady gay." 

So she rose up early in the morning, 

Long before the break of day, 
And she found false Billy Taylor 

Walking with his lady gay. 



39 



FURENS QUID FEMINA POSSIT. 

Acer erat nulli non Mopsus idoneus arti, 

Festivum pleno cum salis ore caput; 
I lie adiens facilem_, qua non formosior ibat, 

Phyllida, quo penitus ferveat igne^ refert. 

Viginti iuvenes et bis duo^ mascula pubes_, 
Laena quibus glaucae concolor ardet aquae^ 

Corripiunt puerum, raptusque requirere amores 
Cogitur amissos et freta longa sequi. 

Inde habitu sumpto Phyllis tituloque virili 

Abreptum pelagi per mala dura petit_, 
Virgineoque videt fastu retinacula tractans 

Saepe picem teneras commaculare manus. 

Proxima lux ridet ; committitur aequore toto 

Pugna : furit mixtis acrior ilia viris : 
Flamina crebrescunt : sagulo fluitante retecta 

Femineum prodit nuda papilla sinum. 

Quae res allata est postquam rumore magistro^ 
^^ Quisnam/^ ait^ " huc^ virgo, te tulit unde Notus ? ^' 

Illa^ " tot in casuSj O dux metuende, marines 

Quem rapiSj hunc quaerens per vada salsa vagor.''^ 

'^ Per vada salsa vagans quem tu^ fortissima^ quaeris, 

Navis amatorem non capit ulla tuum ; 
I^ propera Romam : comitatum pellice cernes 

Ornata puerum^ qui fuit ante^ tuum/^ 

Proxima lux caelo non iam dimoverat umbras ; 

Surgit ab inviso fida puella toro ; 
It^ properat Romam : comitatum pellice cernit 

Ornata puerum, qui fuit ante, suum. 



40 



Straight she callM for swords and pistols, 
Which were brous^ht at her command ; 

And she kilPd poor Billy Taylor, 
With his lady in his hand. 

When the captain he came for to hear on it. 

He very much applauded her for what she had done. 

And he made her first lieutenant 
Of the gallant "Thunder Bomb." 



KaKT) Bov/3p(i)aTL<; iXavvei. 

RoBBiN the Bobbin, the big-bellied Ben, 
He ate more meat than threescore men ; 
He ate a cow ; he ate a calf; 
He ate three butchers and a half; 
He ate the church ; he ate the steeple ; 
He ate the parson and the people. 



Proper f INS oj\ Boiicicanlt. 
'' Nunquam ad Forynosas, invide, caccus cro." 



4T 



"Quis pharetram/^ clamat, ^'nemone hue ocius arcuiii ? 

Nee mora : feminea sumpserat arma manu ; 
Et puer amplexu nondum divulsus amieae — 

Proh ! pudor, imbelli vulnere pressit humum. 

Quae res allata est postquam rumore magistro, 
" Euge ! " ait, '^ infidos sie periisse iuvat, 

Et Ballista^^ — fuit navi hoe ab imagine nomen — 
^^ Aequora te clavum, Phylli, regente seeet." 

T. 



XlT7)tTL<; iv npvTav6L(p. 

'*Avr}p Tt^ ^v ov Brj ^pvovra koiXlcov 
Bov/Bcov enrayvofjba^ov ol \(i)Pr}Tope<^ • 
rovh^ el TL^ a^eXoov TovTroovcriov Kpea<; 
If BaiTV/JLOvcov €t\7] rye Se/cdSa<; ecmav, 
€Ka(TTO^ ipp6(f)7](T€v civ coaT darjv e')(ecv ' 
avTOTOKov ecpaye ^ovv • airelire 8' ovKem 
TO /jlt) rerapTov rj/jbidprafjiov Tpayelv, 
6dppov<; Be irX7](T6el<; e? to irav /SBeXvKTpoirov 
06\(p ^vv avTrj Tov<i UpvTdveL^ KaTrjaduev 
UpoeBpov; T eTTLorTaTrjv Te, TrafiTroXKrjv eBpav. 

R. W. W. 



Madame Rachel. 
Nihil tetigit quod non ornaverit/^ 



42 



ELEGY IN SPRING. 
Oft morning dreams presage approaching fate ; 

And morning dreams^ as poets tell, are true: 
Led by pale ghosts, I enter Death^s dark gate, 

And bid the realms of Light and Life adieu. 

I hear the helpless wail, the shriek of wo ; 

I see the muddy wave, the drejary shore. 
The sluggish streams, that slowly creep below, 

Which mortals visit, and return no more. 

Farewell, ye blooming fields ! ye cheerful plains ! 

Enough for me the churchyard^s lonely mound. 
Where Melancholy with still Silence reigns. 

And the rank grass waves o'er the cheerless ground. 

There let me sleep, forgotten, in the clay. 

When Death shall shut these weary, aching eyes ; 

Rest in the hope of an eternal day, 

Till the long night be gone, and the last morn arise. 

Michael Bruce. 



On the Naturalization in England of a celebrated Italian 
Musician. 

'' Cost am subduximus Apennino.^' — Persius. 



43 



REQUIESCAM. 

Sol vera nascens — talia^ talia 
Dixere vates — somnia saepius 
Adfert : tenebrosae latebras 
Tartareas penetrare mortis^ 
Gratamque lucem turn videor mihi 
Fugisse : ducunt agmina Manium ; 
Funesta lamentis et ora 
Personal horrisono boatu. 
En ! flava lento flumine fluctuum 
Volvuntur, eheu ! scilicet omnibus 
Enavigando, nee redire 

Fata Deum miseris dederunt. 
Valete ruris gaudia ! Florei 
Valete campi ! Sit mihi cespitem 
Herbasque funestas tenere^ 
Qua taciturn posuere regnum 
Luctus tenebrae. Mors ubi ceperit, 
Tali iuvabit sede quiescere_, 
Dum noctis aeternus fugatis 
Ille dies oriatur umbris. 

(Done in the Examination Hall. ) 



J. s. c. 



Mr. Bright on the Upper House. 
Flectere si nequeo Siiperos, Acheronta movebo/^ — Virgil. 



44 



MANFRED. 

Glorious Orb ! the idol 
Of early nature^ and the vigorous race 
Of undiseased mankind,, the giant sons 
Of the embrace of angels with a sex 
More beautiful than they^ which did draw down 
The erring spirits^ who can ne'er return. — 
Most glorious orb ! that wert a worship, ere 
The mystery of thy making was reveaPd ! 
Thou earliest minister of the Almighty, 
Which gladdenM, on their mountain tops, the hearts 
Of the Chaldean shepherds till they pourM 
Themselves in orisons ! Thou material god ! 
And representative of the Unknown — 
Who chose thee for His shadow ! Thou chief star 
Centre of many stars ! which mak'st our earth 
Endurable, and temperest the hues 
And hearts of all who walk within thy rays ! 
Sire of the seasons ! Monarch of the climes, 
And those who dwell in them ! for near or far. 
Our inborn spirits have a tint of thee. 
Even as our outward aspects ; — thou dost rise. 
And shine, and set in glory. Fare thee well ! 
I ne'er shall see thee more. As my first glance 
Of love and wonder was for thee, then take 
My latest look ; thou wilt not beam on one 
To whom the gifts of life and warmth have been 
Of a more fatal nature. He is gone : 
I follow. 

Byron. 



45 



IDEM GRAECE. 

'/2 ')(^pvao(f>eyyh yrjyevMV irpoiTov cre^a'^ 
v6(T0i<i clOIktcov, ol aOeveo ^pv(ov y6vo<^ 
riyavref; rjcrav Aaifjbovwv (ptrvfiara 
Koi /jLTjripcov royv Aacfiovcov fcaWtovcov, 
at 7' iK7re(r6vTa<i elcrdTra^ iraprjycuyov, 
^fl (fiathpe kvk\€, koI deb<; avy rj<; Tra/oo? 
cTGK^co? ire^dvOac [ivhpov ovk avroKTcrov, 
Kol 7rayKpaT0V<^ Sr]vato<; mv Xdrpi^ Aio<i 
cuyplov^; ^OTrjpa<; iv vcLTratai pvOiiicrm 
X^P^ y €KLveo(; e? xppov^ dveLfxevco^;, 
AaljJbcov evapyr]<; ddKoirov t eLKOov Oeov 
avTOV T eirrjkv^ i/cKpc6et<;, iv darpacnv 
7rpeapL(TT0<^ avro^, ovpavov (pXeycov /juiaov, 
Xv yalav ripXv dppbocra^ ^ol^w irvpl 
diracrt %pota9 ical 7rvod(; Btcoptaaf; 
o}p(x)v T6 rafJLLa^ KavjMaTo^ re 8eo-7roT7;<? 
dvBpMV 6^ vTTOVTCov, eyK6Xp(ocr/j,evQ)V (pXoyl, 
ov ry fJLev y Be pbrj, (j>p6vr]/jLa koX Be/na^; • 
Xpvcrov'i S' dviax^v koX fxeaodv, ^puo-oi)? he Sv9, 
KoX %<xfcp6 hrj • ae y varaTOV Trpoao'^lrofjLai,. 
da/ji^cbv (J)l\cov re a epXeirov ^Xcuttcov diro. 
KoX vvv Be^ov jioL Sepyfia tgS davovfievo), 
ov yap KaToyjreL dvrjrov av, Scoprjfju oro) 
OaKnrov^ Tpocf)rj<i r dScjpov w? iK/B^aerac. 
Kal firjv, eSv yap, ovB' ifjbol fjLeWrjriov. 

T. M. 



46 

D E P R O F U N D 1 S . 

(Oed. Kol. 1211-1241.) 

The mortal who yearns for the years 

Which lengthen the shadows of life, 
And dreads a brief season of tears. 

His breast with illusion is rife : 
For the days are but storing up sorrow 

And nought that is kin to delight, 
And the joys of to-day, on the morrow. 

No longer shall gladden thy sight ; 
And then, as the fore-fated sequel 

'Of all that thy wishing can bring. 
There comes the dread ally and equal 

Of the mighty invisible king — 
When the spectre of Doom is before us. 

And the spirit of man is aghast. 
Without lay, without lute, without chorus. 

Death is upon us at last ! 

To be not is more than to be. 

Or, if man hath been fated to birth. 
It is best as a phantom to flee. 

When once he hath lookM upon earth. 
For even when youth ^s in its gladness, 

With the follies which flit in its train. 
Who escapes it exempt from its madness ? 

What form is there absent of pain ? 
Battle, and strife, and sedition. 

And nuirder, and envy, are there ; 
And then comes a thing of derision, 

The ultimate form of despair. 
The last woe that man may discover — 

Old age with its robe of unrest, 
Without force, without friend, without lover, 

And evil on evil for guest. 



47 



He is aged — and e^en as the surges 

Beat over the reef with a roar^ 
When the blast of the Northern Wind urges 

The whitenM waves full on the shore, 
So over the head of the stranger, 

With flashing and foaming and flow. 
Sweep for ever, ^mid darkness and danger, 

The billows and breakers of woe ; 
These from the Sun at his zenith. 

And those from his Orient light. 
And those from the West as he waneth. 

And those from the glimmers of Night. 

W. 



GUSTAVE DORE. 

Magnificent diabolism ! A soul 

That gloats on horrors, and delights to trace 

All furious powers that rend the quiet face 

Of holy Nature ; owning no control 

Of Art^s most sovereign charities ! What flaw 

In heart — what feverish self-idolatry — 

Makes barren all this weird fertility. 

Weak all this sensual strength overleaping law ? 

Mirage upon mirage ! French miracles — 

Conjurer^s tricks that take away the breath — 

Our eyes have learnt to lust for ! Wilt thou whelm 

Our world in lurid ghostness with thy spells. 

Lighting the glamour of thy shadowy realm 

With spectral sunshine of a land of death ? 



J- T. 



48 



THE BRIDAL OF EUROPA : 

A LUCIANIC IDYLL. 

{By the Wild Irishman of the Period.) 
ZEPHYRUS AND NOTUS. 

Z. Well, nothing before so tremendously stunning 
As this here procession encounter^ my eye. 
Have you seen it, my Notus ? 

N. Give over your funning : 
Ton my faith I had got other fish, friend, to fry. 

Z. And so you have missM it. Well, blow me, if ever 
You had such a loss in the course of your life. 
" Such a getting up stairs,^^ on a large scale, I never — 
Why, Notus, the whole world was there with his wife. 

A^. Alas ! I have missM it, for Zeus^ strict orders 
By Egypt and Araby doomM me to be ; 
I have fannM with my wings, too, the bright sunny borders, 
Where Indus and Ganges roll down to the sea. 

Z. But say, have you seen the Sidonian Agenor ? 
N. Europa^s old father ? I have. Til go bail 

You^'e going to tell of the courtship; you mean her 
Admirer is Zeus. Bah ! that news is too stale. 

Z. You know then the courtship. Now, hear what came after: 
. Europa went do\vn with her friends on the strand. 
And Zeus, as his ear caught their soft-ringing laughter, 
Took it into his head just to frisk on the sand. 

A bull he became then — a white bull, I tell you. 
With finely-bent horns, Sir, and soft-rolling eye ; 

And he lowM in a voice so melodious and mellow, 

That Europa felt pleased, though she did not know why. 



49 



Then he jumpM and he gambolPd, that milk-white old 
dodger^ 

Till he coaxM the young damsel to get on his back ; 
And — as soon as he felt heM secured his fair lodger^ 

In the sea my bold Kronides plunged in a crack. 

Poor little Europa, since first she was born^ Sir, 
Was never before in such flustpr, I ween ; 

With one fairy hand she held on by his horn, Sir, 
With toother adjusted her grand crinoline. 

N. My eye ! What a sight for a penny-a-liner — 
The amorous Zeus and Europa ! O my ! 

Z. Nay, nay, friend, what followed was far away finer — 
The clouds clearM away from the face of the sky. 

The sea slept serene without ripple or motion ; 

No white-crested wave far or near might be seen ; 
And Cupids, with torches, skimmM over the ocean. 

Singing : " Haste to the wedding of Ballyporeen.'^ 

The Nereids, emerging, sprang up on their hunkers, 
And mounting their dolphins took part in the play ; 

And the Tritons, and other presentable younkers. 

Cried out in their night-shirts : " Huzza, boys, huzza ! '' 

Poseidon jumpM up on his shandridan. Sir, 
With old Amphitrite set up cheek by jowl ; 

And the bridal procession led on like a man. Sir, 

Crying out : " Faugh-a-ballagh ! make way ! whough ! 
your sowl ! '^ 

But the tip-top affair, every other outshining — 
Two Tritons drew Venus along by their side. 

In a pearly-bright sea-shell, all beauteous reclining, 
A-scatt^ring of posies and flowers on the bride. 



5° 



And so they went on till they landed at Krete, Sir, 
At Zeus' old nurse's. By Kastor ! as soon 

As the soil of his birth-place he touched with his feet, Sir, 
But the bull and his horns flew up to the moon. 

Then in propria persona stood Zeus, the old joker, 

"You're welcome to Krete, Miss," says he with a smile; 

Then he bow'd to the sea gods, as stiff as a poker. 
And said : " Au revoir, boys, good bye for awhile.'^ 

Then he led the fair damsel where wild flowers were blowing. 
And the vine mantled rich o'er the Diktaean cave ; 

Said I to the Tritons : '' Boys, let us be going " — 
And we scamper'd away o'er the wild-tossing wave. 

iV. By the dimples of Venus, but that was a stunner ! 
I never heard anything grander before ; 
I saw nothing better, unfortunate runner. 
Than elephants, griffins, and Niggers galore. 

J G. 



IN GALLUM. 

(" My Uncle, mij Uncle.'') 

Heu ! quater infelix, cui naso pustula, tuber 
Pollice, clune ulcus, clavus utroque pede ! 



S. A 



i/l 

FAREWELL TO GLORY. ^/ 

(FROM BERANGER.) 

CoMEj sing we of wine or of women, of their country let 

patriots rave; 
How easy it was to forget you, ye songs of the free and the 

brave ! 
Spread the feast and throw open the cellar, since France, in her 

fetters supine, 
Mislikes that the war-note of freedom be sounded by lips such 

as mine. 

Ah, well ! I wrote songs for our armies, and helpM to enlist 

them recruits. 
While our soldiers, turnM flunkies in Paris, were squabbling for 

places and suits. 
Now from patriot let me turn lover, or else perhaps, growing 

discreet. 
Look out some snug berth in the service of his Majesty Louis 

Dix-huit ! 

If we chose but to rise on our masters, they should fall, and we 

know it right well. 
As, when Gulliver sneezed in his slumbers, the armies of 

Lilliput fell : 
But the storms of a new revolution might ruin our pleasures, 

ye know ; 
So silence those slaves and their grumbling — what reck we the 

world and its woe ? 



Ah, ye roseate visions of Glory, how feverish, how senseless ye 

were! 
Better far the deep sweet sleep of thraldom, unstirred by a dream 

or a care. 
Cease, my muse, cease to soar with the eagle, and nestle in 

flowers with the dove ; 
While, Glory for ever forgetting, you warble of Bacchus and 

Love! 

H. J. De B. 



5* 



LA GUENON, LE SINGE, ET LA NOIX. 

Une jeune guenon cueillit 

Une noix dans sa coqiie verte ; 
Elle y porte la dent, fait la grimace . . Ah ! certe, 

Dit-elle ma mere mentit 

Ouand elle m'assura que les noix etoient bonnes. 
Puis, croyez aux discours de ces veilles personnes 
Qui trompent lajeunnesse! Au diable soit le fruit ! 
Elle jette la noix. Un singe la ramasse, 

Vite entre deux cailloux la casse/ 

L,' epluche, la mange, et lui dit : 

Votre mere eut raison, ma mie, 
Les noix ont fort bon gout ; mais il faut les ouvrir. 

Souvenez-vous que, dans la vie. 
Sans un peu de travail on n^a point de plaisir. 

Florian. 



" FISHING FOR MUSHROOMS IN THE SEA.'' 

The man in the wilderness ask'd me. 
How many strawberries grew in the sea ? 
I answered him, as I thought good. 
As many as red herrings grew in the wood. 

Gammer Gurton. 



Ap/xdreiov fieXo^. — ^^Thc Irish Jaunting Car" of Mr. Vousden. 

Eur. (Orest.) 



S3 



IIldrjKOt. 

UlOdiu veavi^ fcdpvov evpev aKfid^ov 
')(\(op(p Xeirvpo), rot? Be yofjL(pLOL<; 7rp6(ppQ)v 
irape^oDKev • elra, Kap'^^apov crearrjpvla, 
i(j)6e'y^aT\ otfioi, i/reuSo? eirXaaev fMrjrrjp 
<»9 hrfiev elrj Kapvov 7]St(7T0p rpcoyetp. 

TLf; OVV TO XOITTOV rypaBiWV XoyO) TOVTCOV 

TnoocT av ; elirep tou? veov<; (pevaKt^eo. 
ovK av TO Kapvov 69 KopaKa^ cj)Odvoo ^dXKov. 
A&^ovcr d<^r\ice • to Be TrlOoiV v6avi<TKo<; 
eKOfiiacraT y iv p^ecrw Be Bvo XtOcov Opavaa^; 
e'^etXc Tov-yjrov, Kal (j)ayci)v, elirev Kelvrj • 
dX\ ov KafC(i)<; etprjfcev, w (j)L\r}, fMtjTijp, 
Xapov TO Kdpvov • ttXtjv exprjv acfye KOKKi^ecv. 
fie/LLvr}(To Tolvvv m tl^ iv ^Icp tovtco 
ovTOL TTOvcov UTepOev rjBovrjv e^et. 

J. F. D. 



Mcopo) /jLcopiav. 

JEt? T7]v ^Kvdcov ipTjfjLLav (f)6apek Ti9 i]peO* rjiiafi • 
OvTO<;, \ey\ rj OdXaTTd aot Troaov^; (f)uet fj,vK7]Ta<; ; 
iyoo B' v7ro(TTpeyp'a(; KaTelirov 0)9 fidXiaTa KOfjU-xlrcof;, 
O(7OU97r6j0, &) Tav, at Xo^ao ^voval croc Tapl^ov^i. 

J. F. D. 



II\dKe<; cuypovofiOL. — Rustic Flats. 

Soph. (Oed. Tyr.) 



54 



KASSANDRA, 
(TroadeSj 308-340.) 

[The wild strain that follows is adijiirably adapted to the character 
of a frantic maiden, who ironically pretends that she is inaki7io a 
splendid marriage, while ahont to beco??ie the concubine of a soldier- 
king. She invokes Hyjnen while she brajidishes the nuptial torch, 
calls on her mother, even in the midst of her Tuotirning, to witness 
her joy, and the Trojan maidens to sing and dance 7vith her. Her 
excite7?ient is ecstatic, her gestures wild, her language inspired, her 
utterance loud and rapid. She has hitherto lived in a consecrated 
virginity. Her rejoicing is the joy of vengeance on those who would 
violate it. — Paley, ad loc.} 

Lift ye and lend ye — bring ye light ! 
I yearn ! I burn ! Behold^ behold ! 
Through the fane with a thousand torches bright 
How the eddies of fire are rollM ! 

Hail, Hymen ! Hail, King Hymenaean ! 
Full blest is the bridegroom, and I too am blest. 
That am soon on the couch of a monarch to rest, 

O Hymen, O King Hymenaean ! 
While thou, O my Mother, with wail and with tear. 
Dost lament o'er my Father and Fatherland's bier. 
For my bridal, behold, I am raising 
The torch that so fiercely is blazing ! 
It glanccth, it glcamcth, ah ! see, 
Hvmen, O Hymcnaeus, for thee ! 
Lend, lend me thy torches, O Hekat, 
For the couch of the maiden, to deck it ! 



55 



Airily poise ye the twinkling feet ! 

On with the dance ! Ho ! Euoe ! ho ! 
On with the dance^ as ^twere to greet 

The happiest lot that my sire could know ! 
The dance it is sacred to Hymen ! 
The dance, be its leader, O Phoebus, thou ! 
In whose fane, ^mid the laurels, I worship now ! 
Hymen ! Hymenaeus ! O Hymen ! 
Come trip it, my Mother, come trip it with me. 
And share in the dancing, and share in the glee ! 
As it were for the battle of Paean, 
Shout, shout ye the great Hymenaean ! 
Pour forth with your voices a tide 
Of melodious song for the bride ! 
Sing aloud for the maid that is fated 
With the king of the foe to be mated ! 



w. 



THE REAPER. 



Joy harvested from out the bitter field 

Of suffering ; truth reapM amid the flowers 

Of specious falseness. In this world of ours 

He liveth best whose garnerM hoard can yield 

Large store with frankest bounty. We who love 

The husbandry of art, shall we not wax 

Strong unto singing, bending patient backs 

Above the furrows fresh, God^s heaven above ? 

Reap others, sow thyself. Thou shalt behold 

Thy seed fed secretly by day and night ; 

The bow of Hope bright in thy spring of tears. 

Look up ! the sun shines with thy autumn^ s gold ; 

See how new dim to-morrows of delight 

Lean toward thee from the bosom of the years. 

J- T. 



56 



THE.POErS DEATH. 

Call it not vain : — they do not err, 

Who say, that, when the Poet dies, 
Mute Nature mourns her worshipper. 

And celebrates his obsequies : 
Who say, tall cliff and cavern lone 
For the departed Bard make moan ; 
That mountains weep in ci:ystal rill ; 
That flow^'S in tears of balm distil ; 
Through his loved groves that breezes sigh. 
And oaks in deeper groan reply ; 
And rivers teach their rushing wave 
To murmur dirges round his grave. 
Not that, in sooth, o^er mortal urn 
These things inanimate can mourn ; 
But that the stream, the wood, the gale 
Is vocal with the plaintive wail 
Of those, who, else forgotten long, 
Lived in the Poet's faithful song. 



Scott. 



MY OWN EPITAPH. 

LiFK is a jest, and all things show it; 
I thought so once, and now I know it. 



Gay. 



51 



MORS POETAE. 

NoN fabulas^ non somnia inania 
Fingunt^ poetam mors ubi ceperit, 
Plorare Naturam^ suique 
Exsequias celebrare mutam 
Cultoris. Ilium namque sub invidas 
Raptum tenebras aeriae gemunt 
Rupes et antrorum recessus ; 
Flumine flet vitreo soluta 
Montana moles ; de lacrimantibus 
Stillant odores ambrosii rosis ; 
Perflantque per lucos amatos 
Sollicitas Zephyri querelas. 
Nee tristiores non referunt sonos 
guerceta; nee non, qui tumulum lavat. 
Quae murmura efFundant, ruentes 
Ipse suas docet amnis undas. 
At non — quis est qui sic putet inscius ?- 
Possunt ad urnam plangere talia 
Tam bruta feralem ; sed aurae 
Et nemora et fluvii loquelas 
Dant luctuosas, quum sibi naenias 
Illi cient, qui, ne sopor improbus 
Urgeret ignotos, fidelis 
Carminibus viguere vatis. 



S. A. 



Qeov irair^viov dvOp(07ro<;. 

Iam certo scio, suspicatus olim. 

Id quod cuncta docent, ^iocum esse vitam. 

J. F. D. 



58 



REMONSTRANCE. 

What means this strangeness now of late. 
Since time must truth approve ? 

This distance may consist with state, 
It cannot stand with love. 

^Tis either cunning, or distrust, 

That may such ways allow ; 
The first is base, the last unjust; 

Let neither blemish you. 

For, if you mean to draw me on. 

There needs not half this art ; 
And, if you mean to have me gone. 

You overact your part. 

If kindness now no more can last, 

Dismiss me with a frown : 
Fll give you all the love that ^s past. 

The rest shall be my own. 



THE GAIN OF LOSS. 

" Come, give me back my blossoms," 

SighM the palm-tree to the Nile; 
But the river flowM unheeding 

With its soft and silver smile. 

It secmM to say, " H'is better far 

To leave your flow^-s to me; 
I will bear their yellow beauty on 

To the wondering, wondering sea." 

The amber tresses vanished, 

And the dear spring fragrance fled ; 
But the welcome fruit in clusters 

Came richly up instead. 

HORATIUS BONAR. 



59 



VARIUM ET MUTABILE. 

Quid sibi vult tua frons dudum minus aequa tuenti ? 

Spectatur longo tempore firma fides — 
Conveniat magno licet haec incuria fastu, 

At nunquam vero stare ab amore potest. 

Aut fidei male fisa meae aut versuta necesse est, 

Ut me tam miris adgrediare modis ; 
Aut igitur, virgo, prava aut iniustior audis ; 

Tu vero neutra dedecorere nota. 

Pluribus illecebris nam si me innectere mens est, 

Nil opus est tali calliditate tua ; 
Si vero nostros forte aversaris amores, 

Osorem nimiae sedulitatis ao;is. 

Si nequeo pariter tibi gratus ut ante videri, 

Contractae monitu frontis abire iube ; 
Tu refer acceptum mihi adhuc ego quidquid amavi. 

Si quid restiterit de ratione meum est. 

B. 



'' PER DAMNA . . . DUCIT OPES/^ 

" Rivule, da flores (ita margine palma gemebat) 

Da redeant flores, gloria prisca, mei ! " 
It liquidas, velut ante, vias argenteus amnis ; 

Purius argento ridet in amne iubar. 

Illi lympha fugax, " Nostro sapientius,^^ inquit, 

" Florea credideris dona ferenda sinu ; 
Sic fluitent, donee mirantibus aequora nymphis 

Flavescant croceo munere tincta tuo.^^ 

Intereunt flores, fragrantior interit aetas ; 

Marcent eifusae, lutea turba, comae ; 
At vernum posuit grata vice ramus odorem, 

Mutaturus opes, pomifer anne, tuas. 

H. C. 



6o 



" THE WRETCHED INTERCHANGE OF WRONG 
FOR WRONG." 

Sooner or later I too may passively take the print 

Of the golden age — why not ? I have neither hope nor trust ; 
May make my heart as a millstone, set my face as a flint, 
Cheat and be cheated, and die ; who knows ? we are ashes 
and dust. 

Tennyson. 



A COMPARISON. 

The lapse of time and rivers is the same, 

Both speed their journey with the restless stream; 

The silent pace with which they steal away. 

No wealth can bribe, no prayer persuade to stay. 

Alike irrevocable both, when past, 

And a wude ocean swallows both at last ; 

Though each resemble each in every part, 

A difference strikes, at length, the musing heart : 

Streams never flow in vain ; where streams abound, 

How laughs the land with various plenty crownM ! 

But time, that should enrich the nobler mind, 

Neglected leaves a dreary waste behind. 

Cowper. 



CHIGNON. 

MvciLLA dyes her locks, 'tis said. 

But ^tis a foul aspersion ! 
She buys thcni black, they, therefore, need 

No subsequent immersion. 

Cowper. 



6i 



'' AUREA SUNT VERE NUNC SAECULA/' 

QuiDNi mox lentum me speque fldeque carentem 

Ista sua signent aurea saecla nota ? 
Cor cautes stemque ora silex^ et fraude petitus 

Fraude petam, et moriar ? guisneget? umbra sumus. 

J. F. D. 



PAENE GEMELLI. 

Praetereuntis aquae labuntur tempora ritu^ 
Rivis nulla quies_, non ulla fugacibus horis : 
Muneribus tacitum cursum precibusve morari 
Fas nulli ; nunquam revocanda est^ quae semel unda 
Praeteriit : vasto mox devorat aequore pontus : 
Haud aliter nescit quae lapsa est hora referri — 
Talia dum meditor^ tandem discrimine quodam 
Distare a lympha video^ nee tempus ab omni 
Parte fluentis aquae volvi ratione modoque. 
Amnis enim semper prodest — sit plurimus amnis, 
Ridet ager^ splendet variarum copia frugum ; 
Sed tempus_, fugiens cui non est utilis hora_, 
Ingenium reddit desertum et turpiter hirtum. 



W. R. 



FORMAM REGINA PECUNIA DONAT. 

Invida Leuconoen vicinia tinguerecrinem 
Dictitat ; at mordax talia lingua crepat ; 

Queis nitet exornata nigros emit ilia capillos : 
Cur iterum biberent atra venena comae ? 

R. W. W. 



63 



FROM THE GREEK. 

To him that ^s wise I do advise 

This rule of moderation, 
That he shall pour three cups_, no more. 

Of wine at one potation. 

First, I prescribe that he imbibe 

One cup for his digestion ; 
The second glass to toast a. lass, 

Or friend, is my suggestion. 

The third he ^11 sip to make him sleep. 
Whereon I give this warning : 

If he be wise, forthwith to rise, 
Go home and sleep till morning. 

Beyond these three no cup for me — 
The fourth makes too loquacious ; 

The fifth is rife with noise and strife; 
The sixth with rage pugnacious. 

Though small the cup, if oft filPd up, 
The largest soon -'twill equal ; 

The pottle-pot trips up the sot. 
And floors him in the sequel. 



J. F. W. 



" Constant Reader^' of the Times. 
*' Ruptae assiduo lectore columnae.'' — Iuvenal. 



63 



MORS ULTIMA LINEA. 

The rest are gone — I stay to moan : 
But still I hear the distant feet 
Along the gravelPd paths retreat ; 

I cannot feel^ as yet^ alone. 

Now all is hushM — ah^ not before 
Had I begun to think on this — 
The deep, the dark, the dread abyss, 

Where thou hast sunk for evermore. 

Ah, bitter thought to think — to feel 
That thou art gone. And can it be. 
That nothing more remains to me. 

Save what these silent stones conceal ? 

Oh, could I the assurance hold. 

That men were more than things of clay. 

That fritter here a little day, 
And sink into the earthy mould. 

Oh, that the dreams of men were true ; 

That death were not the end of all ; 

That I might on thy spirit call, 
Uplooking to the heavenly blue. 

Is this an idle hope — a dream 
Engender^ by our foolish pride, 
Which fain the stubborn truth would hide, 

That we are only what we seem ? 

And do we come and go like leaves, 
That rustle on the summer trees 
And make sweet music with the breeze. 

Till winter's blast the wood bereaves ? 



^4 



I grope about a dungeon dark, 

And beat against the bars of doubt, 
And seek to find a passage out, 

To catch of truth a single spark. 

In vain — it better is to wait 

With silent patience to the end ; 
It better is our heads to bend 

Beneath the heavy hand of fate. 



V. B. 




KOTf l.'B0 



Crinitg €olUp, guMiir. 



JToXt'? Be KOTTCLpwv dpar/fio<; 
. . . a%e? /X6X09 eV Bofiotacv, 

Eur. Pleisth, 



H I LARY TERM, 

MDCCCLXX. 



SECOND EDITION, 



^^UBLIN: 
WILLIAM MCGEE, 18 NASSAU STREET. 

LONDON : BELL AND DALDY. 

1870. 



l-ORTEOUS AND GIBBS, 

PRINTERS, 

WICK LOW STREET. 



(from de musset.) 

^'eMEMBER, when the Morn in half-afFright 
eijUOpes the enchanted palace of the Sun; 
Remember^ when walks forth the pensive Night, 

In robe of silver, like some dreaming one ; 
At call of pleasure if thy bosom heave, — 
When the shades waken some sweet thought of eve- 
Where woods wave to and fro. 
List to the murmur low — 
Remember ! 



Remember, if the Fates in spite of tears 
For evermore shall leave us far apart. 
When grief, and exile, and the wasting years 

Have worn and withered this despairing heart ; 
Think of our passion, of our parting hour ! 
Absence and Time on Love have little power; 
And, while my heart shall beat. 
Still, still it shall repeat- 
Remember ! 



66 



Remember, when the chilly earth shall wrap 

My broken heart in everlasting sleep ; 
Remember, when upon its lonely lap 

A single flower shall ope and vigil keep. 
I shall not see thee more ; but still shall be 
My spirit faithful, and return to thee ; 
And in the midnight lone 
A mournful voice shall moan — 
Remember I 



f abg €hxK in % S0ut^. 

ADY Clara Vere de Vere,— 

You whom the Laureate makes attacks on,- 
If your papa were not a peer. 

If you were not an Anglo-Saxon, 
In short if 'twere not too absurd 

To think of you where aught of trade is, 
Vd almost say, upon my word, 

Tm looking at you now in Cadiz. 

For, from the window of mine inn, 

At which I sit and smoke my Lopez, 
While Xeres from the inmost bin 

Beside me gleams like molten topaz, 
Down in the square court-yard below 

Alone undrowsed in noontide languor, 
'Midst Gomez, Manuel, Filippo, 

I see your very Doppel-gdngei- . 



67 



The tinge, my lady, of your hair 

Is left unmentioned, but my guess is 
The fashionable colour— fair; 

Hers is a wealth of blue-black tresses 
Down streaming with unstudied grace 

(Of course you wear yoiLrs in a chignon) 
In masses round her dark young face ; 

{You've old enough to call sixteen young). 

Her eyes are brown and yours are blue, 

With just a shade perhaps of greenness ; 
Her skin is somewhat dark of hue — 

Yours is the tint of Gibson's Venus. 
Yet there she stands — yourself again. 

In every thing except externals ; 
Your common game the hearts of men. 

From simple yeomen up to colonels. 

She's done with Manuel long ago, 

She's turned young Gomez round her finger, 
Then cast him off for Filippo ; 

And all while o'er my weed I linger. 
And now she makes great eyes at me 

(Such fickleness is my abhorrence). 
Just as you did ere seasons three 

The limes had bloomed above poor Laurence. 

They scowl in vain, she takes no note. 

But looks straight on with calm correct eye ; 
You gazed on " that across his throat," 

As though 'twere some new style of necktie. 
Lady Clara Vere de Vere, 

I dont believe /*^wm^ souvent varie ; 
Your sex are all the same, I fear. 

From Timbuctoo to Tipperary. 

M. R. 



68 



%^t l^emorg of % g^ab. 

gMT" ho fears to speak of 'Ninety-eight ? 
^^O^ Who blushes at the name ? 
When cowards mock the patriot's fate. 
Who hangs his head for shame r 
He 's all a knave, 
Or half a slave, 
Who slights his country thus ; 
But true men. 
Like you, men. 
Will fill the glass with us. 

We drink the memory of the brave. 

The faithful and the few ; 
Some lie far off beyond the wave. 
Some sleep in Ireland too ; 

All, all are gone, 

But still lives on 
The fame of those who died ; 

And true men. 

Like you, men, 
Remember them with pride. 

Some on the shores of distant lands 

Their weary hearts have laid. 
And by the stranger's heedless hands 
Their lonely graves were made ; 
But, though their clay 
Be far away. 
Beyond the Atlantic foam, 
In true men. 
Like you, men, 
Their spirit 's still at home. 



69 



jf^IRVM quis annum, quis refugit loqui 
biS) Motos tumultus ? Cui pudor occupat 
Malasque demissumque uultum ? 
Pro patria impauidos perire 

Imbelle uulgus riserit. O, pecus 
Vafrun]_, uel hostis paene tenax iugi, 
Telluris an nomen paternae 

Vsque adeo nihil est ? Sed, acri 

Si cui salit sub pectore uiuida 
Virtus, honesti munera Liberi 
Exsiccet. Illis non inultis 
Vindicibus populi coronat 

Bacchus culullos. Heu, quota pars fidem 
Firmam probarunt ! lamque, ubi htora 
Planguntur Atlantea fluctu 
Hesperio; capiunt sopores ; 

Paucosque lecto seruat Hibernia 
Grato sepuhos : occidit, occidit 
Spes ilia, sed raptis superstes 
Fama uiget, uigeatque nobis 

Quotquot fideles estis adhuc, uiri, 
lactanda. Vitae pars onus improbum 
Exosa longinquo dederunt 

Corda solo, cineresque, amicis 

Non rite fletos, composuit manus 
Ignota ; uastum distinct aestibus 
Hos aequor immensis, sed auri 
Semper adest memor ilia prisci, 



70 



The dust of some is Irish earth; 
Among their own they rest ; 
And the same land that gave them birth 
Has caught them to her breast ; 

And we will pray 

That from their clay 
Full many a race may start 

Of true men, 

Like you, men, 
To act as brave a part. 

They rose in dark and evil days 

To right their native land. 
And kindled here a living blaze 
That nothing shall withstand ; 

Alas, that Might 

Can vanquish Right ! 
They fell and passM away ; 

But true men, 

Like you, men. 
Are plenty here to-day. 

Then here 's their memory ; may it be 

To us a guiding light. 
To cheer our strife for Liberty, 
And teach us to unite ; 
Through good and ill 
Be Ireland's still. 
Though sad as theirs your fate; 
And true men 
Be you, men. 
Like those of ^Ninety-eight. 

I. 



Swinhurnianism. 
TofjLOvala. 



Aristoph. 



71 

Vobis, sodales, nescia inemori, 
Inuicta uirtus. Alite non mala 
Pars ossa mandarunt auitae, 
Pignora ceu pretiosa^ glebae; 

Altrixque alumnos terra fouet sinu 
Noto ; sed^ hydri dentibus iit satis 
Cadmea^ sic dignis^ precamur, 
Digna suis patribus propago, 

Pubes resurgat mascula masculum 
Nobis parentum quae referat decus — 
Ahj quanta lux quantis tenebris, 
Foeda Die super ora tractis, 

Affulsit ultrix, baud leue patriae 
Munimen ! Heu, heu quam ualidum Nefas 
Fas omne debellat^ piosque 
Impia uis ! cecidere, rerum 

Tutela; sed uos iam, socii_, quibus 
Innatus idem spirat adhuc amor, 
Restatis baud paruum futuri 
Vos populi columen ruentis. 

Horum capaces da calices, puer, 
Hac luce ductus iurgia mutua 
Dediscat excussurus hostis 

Quisque iugum, referatque auorum — 

Fors seu minetur seu faueat levis — 
Casus tenacem per dubios fidem, 
Vel morte pro terra paratus 
Non alia perimi paterna. 



A Greek 'Bull. 
JB0V9 eVt ^'Xjaxrarj . 



Aesch, 



(Eur. Hipp. 525.) 

fLOVE, who distillest from eyes 
The glances that melt for delight. 
And fillest the soul with sweet sighs, 

When thou marchest arrayed in thy might. 
Reveal thyself not from above 

With ruin to follow thy path — 
Oh, come not, oh, come not, O Love ! 

With the clash and wild clangour of wrath ! 
For neither the flashing of fire. 

Nor the shooting of balefullest star. 
Can compare with the darts of desire. 

Which the hand of Love hurls from afar — 
Love, the fell scion of Jove ! 

In vain by the Alpheiis strand. 

And in vain by the Pythian shrine, 
The soil of the Hellas land 

Steams with the slaughter of kinc ; 
But Love, the fell tyrant — though his 

Be the keys of the doors of delight. 
And the bower of the bride, and the bliss — 

We worship him not in his might; 
For his path is perdition and pain, 

And of evil he bringcth the sum. 
And he cometh with blight and with bane, 

Whenever he listcth to come — 
Love, the fell scion of Jove ! 



n 



Ere the years of the heroes were sped^ 

In Oechaha^ free as a fawn^ 
Unwooed and unwon and unwed. 

Young lole dwelt in her dawn ; 
From her home, o^er the foam of the flood. 

Love lured her, and loosed from his spell 
A Bacchanal dabbled with blood, 

A Fury unharboured from Hell ! 
For with blood, and with smoke of strange fire. 

And with robe the red poison had dyed. 
And espousals that kindled the pyre. 

To the bridegroom he rendered the bride — 
Oh, fairest, most fatal of brides ! 

Tell, Thebes of the sacred wall, 

And ye waters which Dirce wept. 
Of the lurings of Love for his thrall. 

And the sleep with which Semele slept ! 
For with thundering, and flashing of fire. 

Though fresh from the anguish of birth. 
And the bride of a Godhead^ s desire. 

Love swept her in blood from the earth ! 
For Love is the deadliest thing. 

Though his breath be the breath of a god ; , 
And, unwearied as bee on the wing. 

For ever he flieth abroad — 

The fiercest, the fellest of gods ! 

W. 



Indian Civil Service Candidate over his Saadi. 
" Persicos odi, puer, apparatus/^ 



HOR. 



74 



^O be^ or not to be, that is the question : 

kjL Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 

And by opposing end them ? — To die, — to sleep, — 

No more ; — and by a sleep to say we end 

The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks 

That flesh is heir to, — 't is a consummation 

Devoutly to be wishM. To die, — to sleep ; — 

To sleep ! perchance to dream ; — ay, there 's the rub ; 

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come. 

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 

Must give us pause : there 's the respect 

That makes calamity of so long life : 

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely. 

The pangs of despised love, the law's delay. 

The insolence of office, and the spurns 

That patient merit of the unworthy takes. 

When he himself might his quietus make 

With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, 

To grunt and sweat under a weary life, 

But that the dread of something after death, — 

The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn 

No traveller returns, — puzzles the will. 

And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 

Than fly to others that we know not of ? 

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all ; 

And thus the native hue of resolution 

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; 

And enterprises of great pith and moment 

With this regard their currents turn awry. 

And lose the name of action. — 

Shakespeare. 



15 



AMBAHTH2. 



Zrjv rj Oavelv XPI ' Odrepov Suo-reov, 
€Lr ovv ao^otcrlv ian koXXlov /caXco? 
rXrjvat pekr) re (T(j)€vS6va<^ r oyfirji; Tv)(7]<;, 
elr avT6')(eipa irrjiiova^i Travcrai, 6pdao<i 
arrra^ i^OTrXtcrOevTa Kyjiaaiv Kaicwv. 
el yap to KarOavelv fiev r}v oLTrXcof; hpaOelv 
a)<; Brjde Xvcrac rdv /Slay 6v/jLO(pd6pa 
XuTra? 6^ aTrdcraf; Trarpcfcd^; ^porwv yevet, 
eif^^cov riXof; hrj rovr dv rjv dvrd^Lov ' 
cl 8' av TO KaTdavelv ye hapOdveiv, tL yur)v ; 
KaKel y oveipaO' e^o/xev • Trpoo-Tpt^eTao 
TavTrj TO Trpdyo<s, cocrr iprjTuecv /iie Set 
av TOL<; Oavovai SelfiaT y dpdcraovO' virvov 
diraXkxiye'tai awfidTcov Ovtjtmv (^opd^; • 
TOVT rfv TO fxaKpalcova tyjv ol^vv Tidev. 
ifXrjyd^; yap v^peu^ t ovB' dv eh clvtXol jScov^i, 
KOpov Te aefjLvcov, ^Tjfjbiav t€ Kpeio-crovcov, 
iroOov T diroTTTvaOevTa fjuev OdXirovTa Se, 
hUr]^ T dvapo\d<iy dp^lhid t oiyKcofJueva, 
ao(f)ov<i Te /jbcopayv t\7]Ijl6vco<; '^crcrr}/jLevov<i, 
ihpovv 8' eKoLTO Kal (TTeveiv d')(dr] ^epcov, 
htcCKKayrjvaL irpo^ hva^ ')(aXK(p irapov, 
el fir) TO Setfjia [jltj to rot? Oavovcriv y, 
tv dcTKOTTOi, Telvovatv dSiavXot irXdKe^;, 
irXd^oc (fypovrjacv waTe TdaSe crvjiJL(j)opd<; 
(TTepyeiv ev o'Ua) fidXXov rj Orjpdv e/cei. 
fo)9 dvSpa BovXot ^vvvoelv Xlav TdSe, 
dvOo^ 8e OvfjLov tS (ppovecv fiapalveTac 
XMTG) TedrjXe ^v/jucjiVTOv ^/rv^^? fievo^ • 
TrXrjOova-a 3' opfir) 7rpivlvr]<; evToXfiia<; 
TTJBe 0Xa0eL<7a<; ovkct Wvvei pod<;, 
'>^evZ(i>vviM(ji)<; 8' dirpaKTO^ eU ovBev peireo. 

T. M. 



7^^ 



Cleopatra. 

(FIoR. Od. I. xxxvii.) 

iTpy H, now should the floor with free measure be trod — 
""^Deck the temple from altar to portals — 
With such feasts as the Salii spread for their god 

Now, now, should we greet the Immortals ! 
Ere this to bring out the old Caecuban wine 

From the cellars ancestral were blameful^ 
While the Queen planned such \\:oe for the CapitoPs shrine, 

For the Empire extinction so shameful. 
With a herd of the vilest her triumph to share, 

All frenzied with Fortune and maddened, 
There was nought but her spirit unbridled would dare. 

Nought untoward such spirit but gladdened. 
But her fury abated, when scarcely a ship 

Escaped the hot breath of the burning ; 
And the rose faded out from her wine-tinted lip, 

To terror's own ashen hue turning. 
And from Italy seaward she flies in despair ; 

Swift Caesar in hot pursuit follows — 
So the hawk on the dove — so the hound on the hare — 

Over Thessaly's snow-drifted hollows. 
Who feared not the sword, did she stoop to their chain ? 

By womanish dread was she humbled ? 
Did she seek an exile far over the main. 

Who smiled as her palaces crumbled ? 
No ! nor feared she the snake as a gallant to clasp ; 

All unmoved was the Ptolemies' daughter. 
While she wooed to the white of her bosom the asp. 

And death was the boon that he brought her. 
Ere it come, how the blood rushes back to her face, 

Once again how the proud spirit rallies ! 
Scarce the woman, I ween, as a captive to grace 

Their hated Liburnian gallevs ! 

K. 



11 



®n lleairing i\t Jfragm^nts of ^arlg (&xn\ ifgrir f o^frg. 

E have all Tupper— not one thunder-tone 
Hath ceased to bellow through the British sky. 
And ladies tell us that the great trombone 

Will sound again, and laughing fools defy ; 
But where are ye, whose broken harmony 

Makes discord shriek where music seemM to flow, 
Clear stars of song, to whom our best can be 

Nought but loose clouds, that shift and toil below ; 
Handbreadths of wondrous streams, joyous and free. 

That leap and foam and flash, and have no peers. 
Bounded by darkness ; wafts of strange melody 

Heard in the loud wild night of wasteful years ? 
Ah, bleeding mouths ! ah, smitten tuneful lips ! 

He is the same who mightily lifts the sun 
Majestical, and blacks it with eclipse. 

And wastes the pleasant slopes of Helicon — 
The law that bound the Israelites of old 
Slays you, the firstlings of Apollo's fold. 



x^ BEAU once inquired of a witty young belle, 
"^i:? When her true hair rained rich as the false chignon fell, 
^^ Ah ! why add to those locks that outdazzle the sun ? ^^ 
^' Two heads," she replied, " sir, are better than one." 

A. L. W. 



78 



^OUR hand is cauld as snaw, Annie, 
ifeYour cheek is wan and white; 
What gars ye tremble sae, Annie ? 
What mak's your e^e sae bright ? 

The snaw is on the ground, Willie, 

The frost is cauld and keen ; 
But there^s a burning fire, Willie, 

That sears my heart within. 

The Spring will come again, Annie, 
And chase the Winter's showers, 

And you and 1 shall stray, Annie, 
Amang the Summer flowers. 

O bonnic arc the braes, Willie, 

When a' the drifts are gane; 
But my heart misgives me sair, Willie, 

YeMl wander there alane. 

will ye tryste wi' me, Annie? 

will ye tryste me then ? 

V\\ meet ye by the burn, Annie, 
That wimples doun the glen. 

1 daurna tryste wi' you, Willie, 

1 maunna tryste ye here ; 

But weMl hold our tryste in Heaven, Willie, 
In the spring-time of the vcar, 

Aytoun 



Forced IVit. 
Humore coacto. 



[vv. 



79 



Si qtta inh n^ptK §lmnpas ! 

TO ALLENT, Lydia, cur genae ? 
W Friget cur niuibus frigidior manus ? 
Cur artus teneri tremunt ? 

Ardent insolita cur oculi face ? 

Durantur positae niues 

Hiberni gelidis flatibus aetheris ; 
At pectus, Corydon, meum 

Caecis heu! penitus carpitur ignibus. 

Brumam nubibus horridam 

Grata uer roseum mox uice proteret, 
Et per floriferum nemus 

lungemus socias, Lydia, nos moras. 

Altae difFugient nines ; 

Ridebunt nitidis prata coloribus ; 
Ast eheu ! mea praesciiis, 

Erres ne sine me, corda subit timor. 

Quin te constituis mihi 

Venturam comitem uere nouo meam ? 
Visam te prope marginem 

Riui per siliiam qui trepidat loquax. 

Ah ! non constituam tibi, 

Nee fas est, soliti margine riuuli ; 

At, quum uerna aderit dies, 
Siluis Elysiis consociabimur. 



B 



Aerated Bread. 
Vescimur auris. 

ViRG. 



8o 

ffilarihl. 

^^ HERE Claribel low-Iieth 
The breezes pause and die, 
Letting the rose-leaves fall 
But the solemn oak-tree sigheth, 
Thick-leaved, ambrosial, 
With an ancient melody 
Of an inward agony, 
Where Claribel low-lieth. 
At eve the beetle boometh 

Athwart the thicket lone : 
At noon the wild bee hummeth 
About the mossM headstone : 
At midnight the moon cometh. 
And looketh down alone. 



Tennyson. 



C0 tlj^ €bmms Star. 

P EM of the crimson-colourM even, 
cL^Companion of retirins; day, 
Why at the closing gates of heaven. 
Beloved star, dost thou delay ? 

So fair thy pensile beauty burns, 

When soft the tear of twilight flows ; 

So due thy plighted love returns 

To chambers brighter than the rose; 

To Peace, to Pleasure, and to Love, 
So kind a star tiioii sccm'st to be, 

Sure some enamour'd orb above 

Descends and burns to meet with thee. 

Campbell. 



8r 

2IMMIOT TOT 0HBAIOT 

ek Koplvvrjv iirLr/pafifJia. 

^Hk' dvefjiO<; KaOvirepOe irvewv rvfifioLo Kopivvri^ 

(7Vv6vr](TKei TreraXoLf; ra poS^ epa^e ^eet • 
apbppocTir} Be fjbekruia fieKl^erai v-^lkojjlo^ Spv<; 

Brjvaiov, TO Kopr]^ eheicev ivro^ ex^i. 
T^S' virep ol6(^pova^ irvKVO-mepo^ ^%^Ta Odfivou^; 

Terrtf atacreb acyf} iv kaireplr} • 
ri T6 /jLeXiacT avkyovcrcb \iQov irvKa Troirjevra 

ov Xrjyet ffo/jilSovcr r)Bv iie(Tr]pieplr] • 
^r^vT) 8' ep^erat wSe rdcpov pLeaovvKTio^, oXt], 

dfi(j)U exovra Koprjv v'\\r66ev o^Jrofxevr). 



M. 



IfT NICA purpureo quae candes uespere lampas, 
-'{3 Vergentem socia luce secuta diem^ 
Cur tu, gemma poll gratissima^ sola moraris, 
Claudit ubi Hesperias nox reuocata fores ? 
Ignescit face tarn pulcra tibi pensilis ardor. 
Cum fundit moriens roscida dona iubar ; 
Tarn constans thalamos, lucentia regna, reuisis, 

Ipsa quibus cedit purpura uicta rosae ; 
Quin adeo floret te sub custode Voluptas, 
Floret Amor, floret non peritura Quies ; 
Quis dubitet, socios quin tecum accenderit ignes 
. Quaedam e sublimi Stella caduca choro ? 

H. 



«2 



Sunt IJacrtma^ ^eriim. 



Queen. IWIMBLE mischance, that art so light of foot, 
^jx^^Doth not thy embassage belong to me, 
And am I last that knows it ? O, thou think' st 
To serve me last, that I may longest keep 
Thy sorrow in my breast. Come, ladies, go, 
To meet at London London's king in woe. 
What, was I born to this, that my sad look 
Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke ? 
Gardener, for telling me these news of woe 
Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow. 
Gar. Poor queen ! so that thy state might be no worse, 
I would my skill were subject to thy curse. — 
Here did she fall a tear; here in this place 
ril set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace : 
Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen, 
In the remembrance of a weeping queen. 

Shakespeare. 



^clrgiiDus Intolerance. 

^^OOSEY, goosey gander, 
cJ Whither dost thou wander ? 
Up stairs and down stairs, 
And in my lady's chamber. 
'Inhere I met an old man 
'i'luit would not say his prayers; 
1 took him l)y the left leg, 
And threw him down stairs. 

Gammer Gurton, 



«3 



ATH2 nAFKAATTON 0EPO2. 

"Av, ^fl rrj? iJLekalvr]^ odkvttovv drr}^ repa^, 
ov Brjra Krjpv^ alev rjad' ifjuol KaKOiV ; 
irm ox)V ToK €/Jba6ov wS' iv vaTaTOV^ iyco ; 
aXK' v(TT6pov yap rjXde^ dyyeXo^ ^paSv?, 
(w? KapSia firiKtarov tJS' a%09 rpecprj. 
IV ovv "AOriva^" (ocrr "AO'^vaicov Ihelv 
dvaKTa Xvypov ' fiMV SeBopKa (pm rode 
Bcoaovaa x^PI^' ixOpolcn SaKpixov vtto ; 
KrjTTOVpe, TMvSe /jloo Xoywv KaKor/yeke, 
oXoiTO TovBe 7rp6fivo6ev kyjitov ^vrd. — 

K7}7r. El tto)?, dvaaaa rXri/jLOV, wSe 7' 6L'Tf%ot9, 
TrdvTco^ oXotT avTolcTi Kri7ro<; dvdecnv. — 
rfjB'' rj ToXaiV e^aXXe haKpvov TTLKpov, 
ri TTTjyavov TyB\ ipydvrjv tmv %epy//3&)i^,^ 
TTLKpov (Tirepfh — iTr]yaX yap e| oaawv TTLKpac 
TTJh' ippdr^rjcrav — fivrjfjia ^aaiXeiov Bv7j<;. 

A. W. Q. 

Herb of grace ;" ruta enim aquam benedictam colentibus irrorabat antistes. 



%nmtu\n^, bnmina^ Bixnt in Muxxb, Bmm xxmlm 
pmk^tu xtlxQXonm t^inxhut 

IIoL Br] irXava av, %77z/t8wi^, ^Tyywz/ dvep ; 
oiroL TrXavM/JLat ; KXtfiaKcov dvo) Karco, 
ek B' ecTTiV ore KotrMva t^9 KeKrrj/iievrjf;. 
KavravOa Brjiror' ivervxov yepovrlw 
09 ovKer' erXr} ^etjoorwou? avBdv Xtra? * 
^dp'y^ra^ B' iyoD to Kadapfju' dpiarepov 7roBo<; 
eppiyfra Kara rcov KXtfjiaKcov KarcoKapa. 

J, F. D. 



«4 



4f^ARMINA per Musas, per nos didicere loquellas 
^Et certos homines edere ab ore sonos. 
Ne tamen exquiras, sedes quae propria nobis^ 

Si mare^ si terram dixeris^ haec colimus^ 
Vna, duae^ plures^ — una sed rarius omnes, — 

Nee species nee uox omnibus una data est. 
Finge duas periisse, — diu neque frigus habebis ; 

Ceteraque aufugimus turba — calore cares ! 
Tartara ter primam cepere : supersumus omnes; 

Vna tamen nostrum, Mors, tua semper erit. 
Nocte duae gaudent, quae restant lumina poscunt ; 

Tres Superos adeunt, ima petunt reliquae. 
Dulce tenet Musas culmen, sed amoenius omnes 

Nos tenet, — aestiuorum omnibus unus amor. 
Quinque sumus, — sex forte putes ; sed terra, sed astra, 

Arta nimis, cunctas se cohibere neirant ! 
At — uocalis enim ferimur chorus — accipit omnes 

Muta olim Tethys Oceanique sinus. 

R. W. W. 



(EpHapFj on tin §00hs of a minm Cbscb f ibrarjr, 

{^covdvra avveTolai.) 

gM^ITIITN wc he, a countless throng; forbear, 
J3- Nor deem, fond reader, thou may'st enter there. 
This once was Learning's home, 'tis now the tomb 
Of Learning's children, hid in jealous gloom. 
No dole of dust we crave from pious hand. 
To dust consigned by tyrannous command : 
Fly hence, and shun this hope-deserted gate. 
Nor share with us our mute inglorious fate. 

J. P. M. 



85 



S'rANQUIL as one on whom heaven's peace hath smiled, 
^ Tender as woman, yet withal profound 

In wisdom ofttimes gathered from the ground, 
He dwelt from youth to age in heart a child 
Mid Nature's varied scenes of tame and wild, 

Lakes, glens, and woodlands fair, hill-girded round. 
Thus nurtured in a holy league were bound 
Within him Truth and Passion undefiled ; 
Oft would he commune with the bubbling rill, 
Or pore on clouds vermilioned by the glow 
Of sunset, or on some heaven-kissing hdl 
- Gloat on the charms each heightening each below ; 
Till, as hope prompts the song of prisoned birds. 
He loosed his rapture in immortal words. 

'Tis not at once the scattered rays combine 

And concentrate to give to us entire 

The image of some orb which we desire 
To gaze upon ) not always we assign 
To its true place, where many glories shme, 

A star that beams mayhap with tempered fire. 

And burns not brightest of the stellar choir. 
Because it sheds a radiance more divine. 
'Tis not at once we can our portion choose 

With worthiest thoughts ; but after wintry days 
A luminous cloud from Castaly's warm dews 

Emerging wraps the world on which we gaze. 
The sparkling play of childhood's fount renews. 

And hallows all things with its silvery haze. 

B. B. F. 



85 



^omtih up as n Jflobtr. 

fKNEW thee once, in early spring. 
Fair, innocent, and true, 
Nor inwardly an other thing 
Than outwardly to view. 

I saw thee fair and fairer grow ; 

But, as a bud tho' green 
Will flush into a blossom, so 

Thine innocence hath been. 

And now let others pay thee suit. 
Fain would I watch no more ; 

Me-feareth lest the goodly fruit 
Be hollow at the core. 

A. 



^n l^utumit f antrsrape. 

jff HE leant upon the rustic bridge 
iKWith all her spirit in her eyes; 
Far ofl' the mountains, ridge on ridfc, 

Flow'd westward through the autumn skies : 

The blue sea laved its golden weeds, 

In wreaths the blue smoke took the air; 

Red were the forests, green the meads — 
I said, '' O earth, is heaven more f^iir ?" 

A. P. ( 



87 



§.tib t^er^ tRxat Cfou i^ng^Is ni ^faeit. 

&0^rHILE Time was as yet in his morning, 
tl5-^ Ere the eyes of the world had waxed blind. 
The Seraphim thought it no scorning 

To stoop to the homes of mankind. 
In glory they swept through the city, 

O^er the patriarch's threshold they trod. 
Clad about with the love and the pity 

And the grace of the great ones of God. 

And the sons of the earth grew high-hearted. 

As they spake with the sons of the Lord ; 
But still, as the bright guests departed. 

Sin sorrow and shame were restored. 
And, as hath been since Nature's beginning. 

Since man was created to rot. 
The world went on sighing and sinning. 

And Angel and God were forgot. 

H. J. De B. 



fE bene perspecta duo tu contraria cernes ; 
De quibus hoc debes, illud amare soles. 

I. Cornua bos uitta cinctus procumbit ad aram. , 
II. Omne genus uolucrum trahit hinc exordia uitae. 

III. Hoc modo concedas, e uotis omnia fient. 

IV. Tempus significat uox haec : nil amplius addam. 

V. Ventus non opus est; quo dempto accede, iuuentus. 
VI. Militiam hie passus mecum est et mille labores. 

G. L. 



88 



^0 gelia. 

<|jf AIR the face of orient day, 
Xzd Fair the tints of opening rose; 
But fairer still my Delia dawns. 
More lovely far her beauty shews. 

Sweet the lark^s wild warbled lay, 
Sweet the tinkling rill to hear; 

But, Delia, more delightful still 
Steal thine accents on mine ear. 

The flower-enamourM busy bee 
The rosy banquet loves to sip ; 

Sweet the streamlet^s limpid lapse 
To the sun-brownM Arab's lip : 

But, Delia, on thy balmy lips 
Let me, no vagrant insect, rove : 

Oh ! let me steal one liquid kiss, 

For, oh ! my soul is parchM with love, 



Burns. 



®n u |)bnsician. 

(from thk c.reek.) 

IjfRIEND, can you tell me who is yonder fellow — 
y He with the countenance so sick and yellow ? 
" Oh ! that 's the Doctor.'' Aye, I know their trick, 
They ne'er look well but when their friends are sick. 

J. F. W. 



89 



Op VLCHER est solis redeuntis ortus ; 
® Pulcher est floris color explicati ; 
Pulchrlor solem superas rosamque, 
Delia;, pulchram. 

Dulcis indoctae canor est alaudae ; 
Dulcis est lapsus crepitantis undae ; 
Dulcior longe tua uox amantem 
Serpit in aurem. 

En ! apis gaudet studiosa florum 
Ore delibans roseos liquores ; 
En ! Arabs gaudet recreans scatebris 
Arida labra. 

Non apis ritu temere auolantis 
In tuis labris mihi sit uagari ; 
Hinc sinas haustum rapiam leuemque 
Pectoris ignes. 



V. B 



®0 mg mxh. 

(from the SPANISH.) 

fH, wert thou placed beneath the sod. 
What happiness for me and thee ! 
For thou would^st go to look on God_, 
And God would come to look on me. 



J. F. W. 



90 



5p HOUGH till now ungraced in story, 
Gi Scant although thy waters be. 
Alma! roll those waters proudly. 

Proudly roll them to the sea ! 
Yesterday unnamed, unhonourM, 

But to wandering Tartar known, 
Now thou art a voice for ever 

To the world^s four corners blown. 
In two nations' annals graven 

Thou art now a deathless name, 
And a star for ever shining 

In their firmament of fame. 

Trench. 



Song. 

|OL0W, blow, thou winter wind, 
^Thou art not so unkind 

As man's ingratitude; 
Thy tooth is not so keen. 
Because thou art not seen. 

Although thy breath be rude. 

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
That dost not bite so nioh 

D 

As benefits forgot ; 
Though thou the waters warp, 



Tliy stintr is not so shar 



As friend rcmember'd not. 

SlIAKKSPEARK 



91 



Jfus gobiimm in qunqwe Jfontmm. 

tLMA, prius quamuis nulla decoratus auena 
Volueris exiguae munere pauper aquae, 
Aude sorte noua fluctus glomerare superbos, 

Quos tribuas laeto, dona superba, mari. 
Nuper in ignoto celabas gurgite numen, 

Quod colerent profugi_, barbara turba, Getae ; 
lam nunc, assidue uersandus in ore futuro, 

Laudibus implesti solis utramque domum. 
Te celebrant binae patria pro sospite gentes ; 

Aeternum titulo duplice nomen habes. 
Candidus in fastis inter bene gesta refulges, 

Qualia sidereo prospera signa polo. 



T. H. O. 



AXAPI2T02 OAOITO. 

P'rISTIS hiberno licet, Eure, flatu 
bi Saeuias, ira mihi tristiore 
Hie furit, si cui periit benigni 
Gratia facti. 

Faucibus quamuis animam remittis 
Tu feram, mordes leuiore dente 
Quam uir ingratus ; tua namque nulli 
Forma uidetur. 

Frigore horrendo glacieris, aether, 
Sed mihi, quisquis memori tenere 
Mente non curat bene facta, morsu 
Acrior instat. 

Tu domas fontesque lacusque uinclis, 
Tu domas riuos celeres ; sed ictu 
Immemor nostri grauiore corda 
Laedit amicus. 

W. R. 



92 

d/^OME live with me^ and be my love, 
^'And we will some new pleasures prove 
Of golden sands and crystal brooks^ 
With silken lines and silver hooks. 

There will the river whispering run, 
WarmM by thine eyes more than the sun ; 
And there the enamellM fish will stay, 
Begging themselves they may betray. 

When thou wilt swim in that live bath. 
Each fish which every channel hath 
Will amorously to thee swim, 
Gladder to catch thee than thou him. 

Let others freeze with angling-reeds, 
And cut their legs with shells and weeds ; 
Or treacherously poor fish beset 
With strangling snare or windowy net ; 

Let coarse bold hands from slimy nest 
The bedded fish in banks outwrest; 
Let curious traitors' sleave-silk flies 
Bewitch poor fishes' wandering eyes. 

For thee, thou necd'st no such deceit, 
P'or thou thyself art thine own bait; 
The fish that is not catch'd thereby 
Alas! is wiser far than L 

Donne. 



AiNirMA. 

"EcTTL /ji€ya<; 7roTa/jLo<i rod ra aroL^ela hvvavrai 
Toaaov 6a' etv €Viavro<s eXiacrcov ij/juara (paivec. 

J. F. D. 



93 



gum Capimus Capimur. * 

6©VC, Galatea, ueni ; mea lux, age, gaudia mecum 
®i Plurima nee solitis hie aditura modis, 
Quot meus aureolis uitreus tibi riuus arenis 

Cumque hamo tereti Serica Una ferant. 
Perstrepet aprieos tibi garrula lympha lapillos 

Sole minus uisu quam calitura tuo ; 
Et tibi terga frequens pictus gemmantia piscis 

Obuius astanti se feret ipse capi. 
Balnea sine petes quando haec piscosa, ciebis 

Vndique flumineos ad tua labra greges : 
In te praecipiti met omnis amore proteruus, 

Cedet et in laetas, laetior ipse, manus. 
Frigidulus demptis calami moderator alutis 

' Conchis et rigida carice crura secet : 
Aut nassas uafer aut interlucentia nodis 

Retia letiferis insidiosa paret : 
Durus in arcano latitantia corpora limo 

Audaci rapiat rusticus ungue licet : 
Sine uagos pisces fallacis imagine muscae 

Aera recurua catus dissimulante trahat. 
Tu tamen illecebras, tali procul arte remota, 

Vnica materia ducis ab ipsa tua : 
Piscis enim, qui te bene fugerit, improba, uisam, 

Hei mihi ! plus nobis, suspicor, ille sapit. 

J. R. W. 



AINirMA. 



Barri.dB7](; fju^ eiroir](7ev ' avevprjo-et^; Se 6' 6fioi(D<; 
KTjv lirl Be^ia Krjv eV apto-repa rovvofi' avcvyva>^. 

J. F. D. 



94 



Itessiiit glaggtor galoxtl 

*M'0 greater grief! Is it then always grief 
bc*i) Remembering happier times in times of sorrow ? 
Does one day of delight ne^er bring relief 

To the sick soul on a despairful morrow ? 

Past joys are a possession. Oft we borrow 
Strength for our present pain from out the brief 
Bright moments garnered long in memory's sheaf : 

August's rich grains make glad December's furrow. 
Have mine eyes once with any wealth been blest 

Of coast, sea, sky, or heaven-suggesting face ; 
Mine ears drunk highest music when she sung 
Who was my life of life, whose gentle breast 

From the world's rush was my one resting place ;— 
Blind, deaf, and old, I see, hear, still am young. 

J. T. 







Crinilg ^alU^t, §nhlhx. 



JJoXv^ Be Korrd/Scov apa<yfio<; 
. . . a'%et fieXo^ iv hofioicnv. 

Eur. Pleisth. 



TRINITY TERM, 



MDCCCLXX. 



WILLIAM MCGEE, i8 NASSAU STREET. 

LONDON : BELL AND DALDY. 

1870. 



DUBLIN: 

PRtytED BY PORTEOUS AXD GIBBS 

WICKLOW STHKET. 



CONTRIBUTORS. 



A. 




B. 




R. 


W. B. 


H. 


C. 


C. 




J- 


F. D. 


H. 


J. De B 


E. 


D. 


W 


. W. F. 


H. 


S. G. 


J. 


G. 


A. 


P. G. 


C. 


G. 


J- 


H. 


G. 


L. 


J. 


M. 


C. 


P. M. 


A. 


B. 0. 


W 


. R. 


J. 


A. S. 


w 


. J. T. 


J- 


T. 


T. 




J. 


F. W. 


W 


. 


R. 


w. w. 


W 


. G. W. 



Samuel Allen. 

T. J. B. Brady, Ex-Sch. 

R. W. Buckley. 

Hastings Crossley, Sch. 

Maxwell C. Cullinan, Ex-Sch. 

John F. Davies, Ex-Sch. 

Hubert J. De Burgh. 

Edward Dowden. 

William W. Flemyng. 

H. S. Gabbett. 

John Gal van, Ex-Sch. 

Alfred P. Graves, Sch. 

Charles Graves, Lord Bishot of 

Limerick. 
J. Henry, Ex-Sch. 
George Longfield, F.T.C.D. 
J. Martley. 

Charles P. Mulvany, Ex-Sch. 
A. Barrington Orr. 
William Roberts, F.T.C.D. 
J. A. Sharkey, Sch. 
W. J. Thornhill, Ex-Sch. 
John Todhunter. 
Robert Y. Tyrrell, F.T.C.D. 
John F. Waller. 
Thomas E. Webb, F.T.C.D. 
Richard W. West, Sch. 
W. G. Wills. 



(after de musset.) 

" ©EVER/' you said to me the other night, 
OT While the sad music filled the air with sighs ; 

" Never/' you said, while in your own despite 
Love lit the azure sadness of your eyes. 

*' Never/' you said again with accent low, 

And mournful smile, as smiles the marble, pale ; 
But the proud thought of what you might bestow 

Veiled you with blushes, as a jealous veil. 
Oh, what a word, and what a world of woe ! 
I did not see the fair face all aglow. 

Or the pale smile when to my lips love rose ; 
Fair was the face, but than the soul less fair. 
On this I gazed, my love was centred there — 

And yet I saw your heart close as a flower doth close, 



@^HEIR Persian finery I can't abide, 

A I like not. Boy, their wreaths with linden tied, 

Give o'er the search, through woods and sheltered closes. 

For late-blown roses. 
Plain myrtle doth not misbecome my brow, 
Nor thine ; add nothing more elaborate now. 
Studious to please : but 'neath the embowering vine 
Serve me with wine. 

C. G. 



96 



" ^ THOU hollow ship, that bearest 
^^ Paris o'er the faithless deep, 
Would'st thou leave him on some island 

Where alone the waters weep ! 
Where no human foot is moulded 

In the wet and yellow sand — 
Leave him there, thou hollow vessel. 
Leave him on that lonely land ! 

Then his heart will surely soften. 

When his foolish hopes decay. 
And his older love rekindle. 

As the new one dies away. 
Visionary hills will haunt him. 

Rising from the glassy sea. 
And his thoughts will wander homeward 

Unto Ida and to me!" 

Thus lamented fair Oenone, 

Weeping ever, weeping low. 
On the holy mount of Ida, 

Where the pine and cypress grow. 
In the self-same hour Cassandra 

Shrieked her prophecy of woe. 
And into the Spartan dwelling 

Did the fciithlcss Paris go. 



AVTOUN 



liuicnalis ^ormitans, 

tKMO repcntc fiiit,'' dixti, ^^ turpissimus ;'' ohe ! 
Nonnc patent uigilcs tc j)raetcrcunte fcncstrae ? 

R. VV. W. 



97 



J^AVIS, Priamidem per freta quae uolas 
Nobis abripiens perfida perfidum,, 
Qua sola aequora plangunt. 
Ilium desere in insula ! 

Ilium linque, precor^ nauis^ inhospita 
Terra; linque^ precor, nullus ubi uirum 
Pes signarit arenas 

Flauas^ fluctibus uuidas ! 

Turn corda incipient ferrea flectier, 
Spes postquam fatuae deciderint; amor 
Antiquus reuirescet, 

Quum defloruerit nouus. 

Illi conscia mens finget imagines 
Surgentum in uitreo marmore montium ; 
Idae mox uaga colles 

Oenonenque petet suam." 

Oenone teneris talia questibus 
Flebatj perpetuis questibus, in sacra 
Pinus quaque cupressus 
Ida consociant nemus : 

Ast illo tonuit praescia cladium 
Cassandrae fera uox tempore, perfidus 
Illo tecta subibat 

Spartanae Paris hospitae. 

B. 



Juumdis ^mbxcatus. 



^^EMO repente fuit turpissimus/^ inquit Aquinas; 
e>l^Sic nisi post quintum non exit Cognitor annum. 



98 



iffk LD Graf Brom is dyinp; at last, 
"^ He^s alone in his rooin^ and sinking fast ; 
And his shutter is pushed by the bluff night blast. 
Howling oh wul lul — lul lul lul lo — ho ! ho ! 
Howling oh wul lul — lul lul lul — lo ! 

His lips are gluey, extremities cold. 
His nose is pinched, and the life-blood rolled 
With a slow, dull beat, like a bell that is tolled. 
With a dead wul lul — lul lul — lo ! 

'Tis dismal to finish a life of sin 
With the night Avithout, and the night within ; 
To buckle alone the last struggle, and grin 
With a sick wul lul — lul lul — lo ! 

Old Graff Brom was a scandalous rake. 
Women have done queer things for his sake ; 
'Tis well that the dead can never awake. 
Shrieking oh wul lul — lul lul lul — lo, ho ! ho ! 
Shrieking oh wul lul — lul lul lul — lo ! 

Oh, woman, poor woman, by dozens undone. 

And the young love, the true love, the heart-broken one, 

r.ong dead, long sped, and pitied bv none. 

Sobbing oh wul lul — lul \u\ lul — lo woe ! woe I 

Sobbing oh wul lul — lul lul lul — lo ! 

Oh, hush ! — oh, hark ! — his ears can catch 
A fumble of liands on his hall-door latch ; 
His hair stood up in a grislv thatcli, 
Wlu) comes witli this wul hil lul — lo '. 



99 

A smothered din^ a stirring of feet^ 
That stumble upstairs with irregular beat, 
And murmurs resembling a gibber or bleat, 
Or a queer creepy wul lul lul — lo ! 

Up they come with a step that lags, 

Hollow-eyed maidens and rickety hags ; 

The moss on their bones can be seen through the rags, 

Creaking oh wul lul — lul lul lul — lo ! 

The skeleton wantons come tottering in, 

All dead, all sped— his pupils in sin. 

To witness their master's last struggle, and grin 

With a shivering wul lul lul — lo ! 

They chattered and wagged their chins like the dumb ; 
Skeleton babies were suckled by some, 
Or horribly dandled at old Dad Brom, 
With lullaby— lul lul lul lo— ho ! ho ! 
With lullaby— lul lul lul— lo ! 

Oh, woman, poor woman, by dozens beguiled. 

And the young love, the true love, the poor, poor child. 

Her yellow hair sullied, her hazel eye wild. 

Who died long ago, deserted — defiled. 

Crooning oh wul lul — lul lul lul — lo, woe woe ! 

Crooning oh wul lul — lul lul lul — lo ! 

Rattle the shutters, and rattles his throat. 
His white beard heaves in gasps like a goat. 
While his tatterdemalions peer and gloat 
With a clamour of wul lul lul — lo ! 

Old Graf Brom is dead at last. 

Alone in his bed, all stark and aghast ; 

And his shutter is bursten in by the blast. 

Roaring oh wul lul — lul lul lul lo — ho ! ho ! 

Roarinp- oh wul lul — lul lul lul — lo ! 

^ W. G. W. 



lOO 



f'NE more unfortunate_, 
Weary of breath, 
Rashly importunate, 

Gone to her death ; 
Take her up tenderly. 

Lift her with care. 
Fashioned so slenderly, 

Youno; and so fair*. 
Look at her garments 
Clinging like cerements, 
While the wave constantly 

Drips from her clothing ; 
Take her up instantly. 

Loving not loathing ; 
Touch her not scornfullv. 
Think of her mournfully. 

Gently and humanly ; 
Not of the stains of her ; 
All that remains of her 

Now is pure womanly. 



Hood. 



Dfcbrs ^^uffragia; Uciror. 

^OU don't like my writings, won't read them, nor buy them; 
•jT)Thcn do me the favour at least to decry them; 
Where the j^raise of good judges is hard to be had, 
The next best thing to it 's the blame of the bad. 

J. H. 



lOI 



firgtmbus |pumsqixe Canto. 

tH, misera, sortis 
Pondere fessa ! 
Ah^ temere mortis 

Viam ingressa ! 
Tollite facile 

Onus tarn bellum, 
Onus tarn gracile. 

Tarn que tenellum. 
Corpus grauatum 

Vestis astringit, 
Funus elatum 

Palla ceu cingit. 
En! panni stillantes 

Vndam irremeabilem ; 
Statis ? — amantes 

Ferte amabilem. 
Ne fastidientes 

Formam attingite^ 
Sed flebilem flentes 

Animo fingite; 
Quod fecerit male 

Donate tam bellae ; 
Nil restat ni quale 

Decorum puellae. 



O AETTEP02 HAOTS. 

tCRIPTA mea odisti ; non uis legere aut emere; ultro 
Obtrectes^ si uis commodus esse^ precor. 
Doctorum laus est uix uixque parabilis, et sors 
Aequa nimis^, si quis carpat ineptus^ erit, 

J. F. D. 



102 



(soph. oed. kol. 668-719,) 

fF the land of knights thou has chanced to stray 
To the fairest spot where all is fair. 
To the Hill that flashes back the ray. 

Where a plaintive music thrills the air. 
As the Nightingale haunts the dell divine, 

In the depths of a dark abyss of green. 
Mid ivies dark as darkling wine. 

And leaves that lisp o'er the sylvan scene. 
The untrodden domain of the viewless Power, 

With fruits in myriads all aglow. 
Unsunned in the glare of the noontide hour. 

And unruffled by all the winds that blow ; 
Where lacchus treads the enchanted ground 
With the Nymphs that nursed him dancing round. 

And full and flush with aerial dew, 

And clothed as a vine with clusters fair, 
The Narcissus blooms, which the Mighty Two 

As a coronal twine for their raven hair. 
And the Crocus sheds a golden light, 

And the sleepless runnels never wane, 
As from fall to fall they urge their flight 

With their tribute of waters to the plain. 
Where still the Kej)liisos woos his way 

Through the midst of the meadows while all is mirth. 
And with his unpolluted spray 

Ouickcns the womb of the swelling Earth ; 
Nor his marge doth the Muse with disdain behold, 
Nor the Child of the Toani with the rein of gold. 



I03 

And a Plant there is, which in Asian land. 
Or in Pelops' mighty Dorian strand, 

Never, I trow_, 

Was known to grow, 
Which grows unforced, unplanted, here, 
The terror of marauding spear, 
And through the wide land burgeons free. 
The boon of our boyhood, the grey Olive tree ; 
Young or hoar be the foeman chief. 
He never shall scathe the dark grey leaf 

With the touch of the spoiler's hand ; 
For 'tis watched from the depths of the sacred grove 
By the sleepless eye of the Morian Jove, 

And the Lady of the Land. 

And another glory there is, I ween. 
The proudest vaunt of the Island Queen, 

The goodly dower 

Of the Ocean Power, 
For, Ocean's Lord, she owes to thee — 
Horse — Horseman — subjugated Sea 1 
For thou didst fashion rein and bit 
As a cure for the steed in his restive fit; 
And a thing of awe to the wondering deep, 
With its oars aswing in their measured sweep. 

As the mariners ply the blades. 
The Galliot bounds as a courser fleet. 
And follows the flight of a hundred feet. 

As it chases the Nereid maids. 

W. 



I04 



^ N her chaste current oft the goddess laves, 
(ci^And with celestial tears augments the waves. 
Oft in her glass the musing shepherd spies 
The headlong mountains and the downward skies, 
The water)^ landscape of the pendent wood, 
And absent trees that tremble in the flood : 
In the clear azure gleam the flocks are seen. 
And floating forests paint the waves with green ; 
Through the fair scene roll slow the lingering streams, 
Then foaming pour along, and rush into the Thames. 

POPK. 



•ams0it 9.Q0m.^tcs. 



fE see, O friends. 
How many evils have enclosed me round ; 
Yet that which was the worst now least afflicts me. 
Blindness ; for had I sight, confused with shame. 
How could I once look up, or heave the head ; 
Who, like a foolish pilot, have shipwrecked 
My vessel, trusted to me from above. 
Gloriously rigged ; and for a word, a tear — 
Fool ! — have divulged the secret gift of God 
To a deceitful woman ? Tell me, friends, 
Am I not sung and proverbed for a fool 
In every street? Do they not say, how well 
Are come upon him his deserts ? Yet why ? 
Immeasurable strength they might behold 
In me; of wisdom nothing more than mean. 
This with the other shoultl at least have paired — 
'i'lx'se two, j)r()p()rti()iied ill, drove me transverse, 

Milton. 



105 



llestabaiit Bltimn, Jfleiiit, 

"^NNVBA tarn casto gaudet dea fonte lauari : 
^ Auctior it lacrimis conscia lympha deae. 
Inscius banc pastor miratur saepe recumos 

Vt speculo montes praecipitetque polum ; 
Pendenti scenam silua miratur aqiiosam, 

Et tremulis absens adsit ut arbor aquis : 
Et pecudes pasci per caerula pura uidentur ; 

Silua natat ; uiridi frondet honore latex ; 
Per speciosa uulens spatiatur ruris, et aegre 

In Tamesin spumas acrior unda rotat. 



J. F. D. 



TI AHT' EMOI BAEHTON; 

'A6p6LT6 IX, aOpelr,' avSpe^, oV afKJ^lBpofia 
e%et fi6 irrjfiaT', aXXa tovO' o rrplv fiaKpcp 
oXyKTTOV Tjv riKKJTa vvv hciicvei Keap, 
TO Br] aKOTeivov el jap rj pKeiroyv ijco, 
TTol Btjt' eirrjp' av ofifjiar/ alaxvvri'^ r^k\iwv ; 

TTCO? KpCUT^ eKiV7](T' ', 0? 76, VaVlckrjpOV SiK7]V 

^pevopkapov^, hoOelaav tjv e%&) deov 
TTjv vavv liTOVTicr^ evirpeiTcb^ io-raXfxevrjv 
eTTou? re fiSypo^ SaKpvou re irpo'^ X^P^^ 
<yepa^ 'jravovpyq) rfjSe p.r}vv(Ta<^ e%a) 
TO Oelov ' oyj(i Trm ava (tt6/ll\ d) (f>iXoit 
e%ft)y €/Jb' vfivel fjbcopia^ tcara tttoXlv ; 
Opoel Be irov Ti<^ TOiaB\ eVSt/co)? 76 iir]v 
a yprj ireiTOvOe ' rl Be ; rreXoypLov yap r/v 
IBelv G-6evo^ fJb^ exovra vovv Be rot ^paxvv 
w 7' e^iCTOvG-OaL XPV^> iraprjopov Be ttco?, 
OV (TV/jiiuLeTpcof; exovre, vvv pu^ ea(f)7j\aTr]v, 

J. A. S, 



io6 



(VIRG. AEN. IV. 362-387.) 

f;" ITH restless eyes and loathing looks oblique 
The Queen the while had glanced his person o'er, 
Nor loosed the wrath that lowered upon her brow. 
Till here he paused—then flashed her fuiy forth : 
"Nor goddess gave thee life, false-hearted wretch, 
Nor Dardanus thy miscreant breed began ; 
But thou of flinty Caucasus wast born — 
Congenial birth !— and tigress gave thee suck. 
Yes, why still fawn ? Is it till baser wrong 
(May baser be ?) unpack this dastard tongue ? 
What !— see me weep, nor heave one kindly sigh ? 
Moved he those eyes ? shed he one answering tear ? 
Yea, was e'en pity to my pangs denied ? 
Though why too nicely note or this or that ? 

Vain task, where barbarous all, to cull and choose ! 

Ah, me — not man alone ; not Juno now. 
Nor Jove himself, hath ruth of wretches' wrong. 
Yes, yes — no trusting more, or earth or heaven ! 
This ingrate I — what time our scornful waves 
Outspat the drowning beggar on these shores — 

Not housed alone and fed, but bade him share 

Ah, fool !— my throne and state, and snatched withal 
His shattered barks and starving crews from death. 
I la ! that way madness lies — my brain 's afire ! 
'Tis Phoebus now, 'tis now some Lycian seer 
Anon, and special sent of Jove himself, 
E'en Heaven's own herald cleaves his airy way. 
To bear the dread command— yes, fitting task 
Belike for gods' employ! Such care, 'tis apt. 
Must ruffle Heaven's repose ! But I, good sooth. 
Nor court thy stay, nor deign thy lies refute. 



lo; 

Go then^ and chase coy Latium's realm afar, 

Woo wind and wave to waft thee to her shore — 

Nathless, if holy Heaven avail the right. 

Strong hope is mine, that soon mid wrecking rocks 

Thy perjured soul shall fitting vengeance find, 

That drowning tongue oft syllable my name — 

Yes, as a fiend with black funereal flames. 

Shall injured Dido yet, though far away. 

Aye dog thy guilty thought — yea, and when death. 

With icy touch, shall sunder life and limb. 

Flee where thou wilt, her ghost shall haunt thee still — 

A heavy reckoning, villain, shall be thine. 

Nor paid unheard j the welcome news shall come. 

And glad my spirit in the shades below/' 

W.^J. T. 



UT then you don't mean really what you say" — 
To hear this from the sweetest little lips. 
O'er which each pretty word daintily trips 

Like small birds hopping down a garden way ; 

When I had given my soul full scope to play 
For once before her in the Orphic style. 
Caught from three several volumes of Carlyle, 

And undivulged before that very day ! 

O young men of our earnest school, confess 
How it indeed is very tragical 
To find the feminine souls we would adore 
So full of sense, so versed in worldly lore, 

So deaf to the Eternal Silences, 

So unbelieving, so conventional. 

E. D. 



Y08 



LL last night I dreamed of Bacchus, 
(What could put him in my head ?} 
And he rode upon a jack-ass, 

And his nose was very red. 
Round and round him reeled the satyrs. 

Drunk as lords, and ivy-crowned, 
Tossing high their golden craters. 

And hobnobbing round and round. 

And before went old Silenus, 

Looking very vinous too_f 
While Bacchantes, fair as Venus, 

Beat and pinched him black and blue ; 
And they shouted maudlin verses. 

Laughed, and played a thousand tricks ; 
Banged the donkey with their thyrses. 

Shrieking dodged his vengeful kicks. 

So before me the procession 

Reeled with many a drunken freak ; 
Laughed, sang, swore like any Hessian, 

In the very choicest Greek. 
If a satyr clasped a goddess. 

On him such a shower of blows 
Rained from arms unbound by boddice. 

As would brain him you^d suppose. 

And I thought: "What jolly headaches 

Men get when not half so ' tight ^; 
My poor brow next day in bed aches. 

If Pm merrv over night. 
But these gods ! — ' the dog^ can't bite ^em ; 

We but swill our quarts, eheu ! 
They can drink ad infinitum ; 

Would / were immortal too ! " 



JT. 



I09 

(FROM HEINE.) 

vjj- N her chamber the lady sleepeth^ 
5^ Where streams the peaceful moon; 
From without strange music sweepeth^. 
As of a waltz's tune. 

^^ That waltz — I admire it vastly ! 

Pll see who's there/' she said : 
She looked out^ and saw where a ghastly 

Skeleton fiddled and played. 

'^ To waltz with me once you promised ; 

You've broken your pledge^ ma chere : 
At the charnel to-night 's a reception ; 

Come^ dearest, and dance with me there." 

She could neither stay nor answer. 
Such spell was over her thrown ; 

So she followed the skeleton dancer, 
Who, fiddling and singing, went on. 

Fiddling and dancing, and spinning 

His ribs in time to the tune. 
With his white skull bobbing and grinning 

Horribly under the moon. 



C. P. M. 



Bmt foit^ u ^mx of #Iob^s. 

(S'p'AIR lady, the triumph of winning the wager 
vif) Is yours ; and of paying it mine be the joy : 
The boatman, who seemed to me quite an old stager. 
Seen close, as you said, was no more than a boy. 

In more ways than'one you have proved me shortsighted ; 

What else could the end of our contest have been ? 
Had a smile from your eyes on Methuselah lighted, 

I vow he'd have looked like a boy of eighteen. 

J. M- 



no 



fR^ when the winter torrent rolls 
Down the deep-channelled raincoiirse foamingly. 
Dark with its mountain spoils^ 

With bare feet pressing the w et sand. 
There wanders Thalaba ; 

The rushing flow^ the flowing roar 
Filling his yielded faculties, 

A vague, a dizzy, a tumultuous joy. 
Or lingers it a vernal brook, 

Gleaming o^er the yellow sands ? 
Beneath the lofty bank reclined 

With idle eyes he views its little waves, 
Quietly listening to the quiet flow^ ; 

While in the breathings of the stirring gale 
The tall canes bend above. 

Floating like streamers on the wand 
Their lank uplifted leaves. 

SOUTHEY. 



% §nttk-pTm. 



t^^^T^- 



A IN effort — every adversary quailed 
'(S As Corinth's warrior-host came on amain 
With mortal cleavage. As the harvest falls 
'Neath rustic sickle, when the year doth die, 
vSuch havoc with the edge of the dark sword 
Made they amid the ranks, and human necks 
Did yield like stalks of herbage to the scythe. 
I tell thee, many a jet of blood that day 
Painted the virgin grass with crimson spots, 
And all the hill did seem a-lire with war. 

Dry DEN. 



Ill 



Y/, BI in alueo imbre adeso fluuius ruit hiemans 
iV) Spumas agens^ iugorum spolians nigra capita, 
Madidas premens arenas niueis ibi pedibus 
Talabas iiagatur. Olli fluuiique tonitrua 
Animos tenent stupentes fremitusque celeripes ; 
Et lam dubia uoluptas malesanaque trepidat. 
Vbi riuulus micanti sabulosus itinere 
Remoransque uere flauet, mare paruulum ibi uidet 
Ripa sub ille celsa recubans^ uagus oculos ; 
Placidusque in aure captat caua murmura placida ; 
Super interim inquietus recrepat fcrus Aquilo^ 
Et arundines acutae fluitantia ueluti 
Vexilla deprimuntur curiiata columina. 

C. 



^AOn EIKEA02 AAKHN. 

MXXft)? S' ifiox^ei, ' Tov yap av6(07r\t(T/Jb6vov 
G-ToKov rapdcraet Trdvr' "Aprj^ Kopivdio^, 
OeLVwv, (j)ovev(ov, &)? 8^ oirwpivov (rrd'xvv 
avSpMV dypavXcov %epo-ti/ i^rjfirj/j^evov, 
crrparov KoXovei (paaydvov fieXavSirov 
cLK/jifj, Oepl^cov KdiroKavKi^wv f /(/>6t 
\aifJLOV<i Pporeiov^' ^ovoXipel^ S' diroppoal 
fcaOaLfiarovaL (ttw? So/cet? ;) araXdyfiao-LV 
<j)oivLKol3d7rroL<; evhpoaov x^or]^ ydvo<^, 
Xo^ov B' diravra iroKefJLia Karelx^ <^\6^. 

H. 



f J 1 



@; 



% Simile from CatuKus- 



')^S in the garden^s quiet nook the floweret scents the air, 
^~€ics)Seen never by the browsing herd^ nor bruised by any share. 
Fanned by the gales_, nursed by the sun^ bathed by the genial 

shower, 
Ohj many a youth and maiden fair would wear that bonny 

flower. 
But^ when by wanton finger plucked its waning tints are fled, 
The youth and maiden careless pass_, or press with heedless 

tread ; 
And so the virgin, when she blooms in innocence arraved. 
Steals with her artless witcheries the heart of youth and maid ; 
But, when alas ! the beauteous bloom of innocence takes wing. 
No fond youth loves, no maiden smiles upon that faded thing. 

J. G. 



S0iinet its a I^Miritrnum in a S^oton (!iarl)£n. 

cTO ^^^ thou, despairful that thy lot is laid 
(L0 Far from the wildwood, the romantic hill. 

In rich dishevelment of sorrow spill 
Thy long locks, lustrous, — kiss thine own sweet shade. 
Narcissus-like, or with the Argive maid 
To golden glamour yield thee half afraid ? 

An exile's lontrin2;s for some orient lea 
f.avish, belike, these glittering hoards of grief; 
I know no,t, yet before their sunnner brief 

Forsakes our island oaks. Laburnum tree. 
Again thou seem'st to blossom tears of gold ; 
Nearer we draw, vet all that wc behold 

Is but the splendour of thv laded leaf, 
No hui- of health — the fliisli that all too soon is cold, 

A. \\ (;. 



(from HEINE.) 

@' KNOW not what thoughts are thronging 
(^ My heart with their wondrous chime ; 
They fill me with passionate longing 

For a dream of the bygone time. 
The sky with clouds is darkling. 

But gently flows the Rhine ; 
In dyes of sunset sparkling 

The mountain summits shine. 

And there on the height is reclining 

A lady, wondrous fair ; 
Her golden jewels are shining^ 

She binds her golden hair. 
With a golden comb she binds it, 

And sings a magic song ; 
In trancing melody winds it 

River and cliffs along. 

The fisherman hears it ringing 

With woe and wild surprise ; 
He hears but the lady singing, 

He heeds not the storm arise. 
And darkly will roll the river 

O'er fisher and boat ere long ; 
Such ruin is linked for ever 

With Luralie and her song. 



C. P. M, 



Pompeius a Teetotaller. 
Caruit publico, 

Cic. 



114 

©n Cfjbris hing |IL 

dj^AN I cease to care, 
^Can I cease to languish, 
While my darling fair 

Is on the couch of anguish 

Every hope is fled. 
Every fear is terror ; 

Slumber e^en I dread. 
Every dream is horror. 

Hear me. Powers divine ! 

Oh, in pity hear me ! 
Take aught else of mine. 

But my Chloris spare me ! 



Burns. 



fNFINITE toil v^ould not enable you to sweep away a mist; 
but by ascending a little you may often look over it alto- 
gether. So it is with our moral improvement. We wrestle 
fiercely with a vicious habit, which would have no hold upon 
us if we ascended into a higher moral atmosphere. 

Anon. 



^tgiita-C ^aptiua^ |prttcs. 

^ DOMINE Deus, speraui in te ; 
"*<3) O care mi lesu, nunc libera me; 
In dura catena, in mi sera poena 

Desidero te : 
Languendo, gemcndo, ct gcnullcctcntlo, 
Adoro, imploro, 
Vt libercs me. 

Maria Stvarta. 



115 

KOPINNA. 

T/? ear i/juol fiepijivoyv 
(f>v<yr}, rl^ icrrl Xvttt}^, 
60)9 (f)i\r] Kopivva 
vocrw hajielaa Kelrac ; 
airacr' oXcoXev iXirU, 
KaK7r\7]TTO/jiao (j^o/Soiat * 
virvov BeSoLKa icavrov, 
airav irroel jju oveipov. 
i/jLOV 8^ CLKovcrov, CO Zev, 
aKovaov, oIktlctov t€ • 
rd y' aXka irdvr' d^aipov, 
(TOicrov h' ifjLol Koptvvav. 

W. W. F 



Sxtrsum C0rba. 

§p RRITVS ofFusas oculis dispergere nubes 
^ Viribus Herculeis luctaberis : ille tamen te 
Mons procul expediet ; iam contemplator^ easdem 
Despicies ; ratione fere hac uitium exuet omne 
Vir bonus et sapiens ; qui detrectabit^ ut impar. 
In campo uitiis obstare ; at templa secutus 
Edita uirtutis ridebit fortior hostem. 

R. W. W. 



MEAH AITANA. 

"H'TzaT ft) Sal/uLov, crv fiev iXirh ifxr) • 
(TV Se ^iXrari fioi, acoaov, 'Irjaov ' 
iTOLVoiV wypioyv kcl^ dpyaXecov 

Seafjbwv <T6 TToOco • 
(7T€vd^ovcr' , dSpavr)(;, koX yvif^ TrpoTrerrjf; 
ae/Sco, dvTipoXco, 
dwrrip tJSt) ere (j^avrjvac. 

J. F. D. 



I15 

[TlevOelv Se fJuerpLO)^ tou(; 7rp0(TrjK0VTa<; (f)l\ov<;, k. t. X.) 

> 

OURN o'er thy dead^ my friend^ with bated grief; 

They are not dead in truth — thev have but trod, 

Before thyself, the irremeable road, 
Which all must travel. Give thy heart relief, 
In the assurance of a fond belief 

Thy dear ones all have reached that calm abode 

Where weary travellers lay down their load, 
And take their rest. Rejoice — the days are brief, 

Till thou and I down that same path shall wend, 

To dwell for ever with each time-lyst friend. 

J^ F. W. 

(a cabinet picture from OVID.) 

[•jpHERE was a crystal fountain, whose sparkling silvery rill 
ijL Nor shepherd swain nor pastured goats descending from the 

hill. 
Nor any other herd had reached, nor wing of wandering bird, 
Nor forest beast, nor falling bough, its wimpling w^aters stirred. 
The trickling moisture fed the grass around its margin green. 
Overarching woods kept out the sun with their thick leafy screen; 
And there the boy had laid him down aweary of the chase. 
Caught by the beauty of the spot, the fountain's glittering grace. 
And while he seeks to slake his thirst another thirst there grew, 
And while he drinks, his own fair form bursts on his wondering 

view; 
He starts, he quivers, in the mesh of his own beauty caught. 
As l^arian marble statue-like he stiffens on the spot, 
And there reclined he gazed upon his eyes twin starry sheen, 
And hair that Bacchus self or e'en Apollo might beseem, 
Those downy cheeks, that ivory neck, that brow of virgin snow, 
The red rose struggling with the white on the sunny face l)elow. 

J. G. ■ 



117 



fOT in proud isolation of the mind, 
^v^ Sitting apart to watch the ways of men ; 
Not with high scorn and keen satiric pen, 
Scorching the pahriness of human kind ; 
But in hfe's midst, with reverent ear incUned 
To lowUest griefs ; great heart, and earnest ken. 
Seeking things high — falhng, to rise again 
Stronger through strife— live Poet ! Thou shalt find 

In each and all thyself; shalt make thy home 
On the warm breast of the world ; attain to know 
The gladness of the mystery ; a power 
In the rich womb of change thou shalt become ; 
Through whom an Earth's free wings may lordlier grow. 
And beauty ripen to its perfect flower. 

J. T, 



^ H ROUGH the live-long summer days 
3 Summer suns unwearied blaze 

Hot above the icy dead. 
Through the short fair nights for ever 
Steadfast stars, and stars that quiver. 

Gleam above the darkened head. 

In the old year's troubled wane 
Shrieks the wind and sweeps the rain 

Round death's silent citadel. 
Through long nights of ebon skies 
Thick above the darkness lies ; 

Is it heaven ? Is it hell ? 

H. J. De B. 



ii8 



OmnEP OTAAHN TENEH TOIHAE KAI ANAPHN. 

LITTLE leaflet from a tree 
Fell_, nipped by frost in early spring ; 



es 



And, as it fell_, I sighed, " Ah, me ! 
" Thy life was short, poor little thing, 
" So rest in peace." 

A storm disturbed the summer air. 

It tore a strong leaf from a bough ; 
And, as it fell, I asked, '^^ What care ; 
" What foresight of thine end had^st thou ? 
" Yet rest in peace." 

A sere leaf rustled to my feet — 

It was a lovely autumn eve — 
And, as it fell, I thought, " How sweet 
" A life of finished toil to leave, 
^^To rest in peace." 

A. B. O. 



I. §f^EPRECOR hoc unum, ne tu mihi sis alienum : 
(ii9Esto meum : quamuis pauper, ero locuples. 

II. Me populus mollis periturum mittit in ara : 

In tenues auras non sine odore feror. 
III. Fluctibus alternis uoluuntur caerula ponti : 
Igneus arentes Sirius urit agros. 

I. Agricola hoc faciat, faciat bos aptus aratro : 
Conuenit (ast aegre) uox eadem Libyae. 

%. Si caput abscideris, contempto uulncre uiuam : 
Ingeminor, mentcm quum dolor angit edax. 

3. Tu mihi defcsso iucunda sub arboris umbra^ 
Acstiuo medium Sole tenente diem. 

W. R. 



119 

(before dawn.) 

f'^'^H ! whither wanderest thou, belated Moon ? 
All night thy beams have filled the ample heavens. 
And yet thy beauty is unspent. Why now 
Dost thou in early morning ghostlike range 
Mid violet clouds adown the distant West ? 
Hast thou, forlorn and anxious, lost thy way ? 
Or art thou seeking some forgotten joy 
To take with thee to sleep ? Too tired mayhap 
Of thy long climbing up the cope of heaven, 
Thou canst not lay thee down ! or hast thou seen 
Or heard from the wise Hours such things as change 
To troubles in thy haunted sleepless heart ? 
O silent Witness ! Wisdom makes thee wan ; 
Earth recks not of her sins, and thou art sad. 
Full well I know it is thy pity. Queen, 
The tender consciousness of guilt, not thine. 
But Earth's, thy sinning sister's, that hath wrought 
Upon thee, like a spell, and holden thee 
Long o'er the margin of thy waiting couch ; 
Clad in those sable robes thou lingerest. 
Though thin blue rifts are opening in the East. 
At last yon sea-built battlement of clouds 
Receives thee, and the darkened landscape mourns. 

R. W. B. 



J^ VVM peteret uates hoc mixtum, praebuit illud 
cS? Callidus imponens — sic narrat — caupo Rauennae. 

I. Hostes arcentur tuta hoc si castra locentur. 
II. Insula maiori tu non bene iuncta sorori. 

III. Sulphure non mundis ripas praeterfluit undis. 

IV. Rite hoc planguntur qui uiuis eripiuntur. 

V. Mundo cunctorum — sic scriptum est — causa malorum. 

G. L. 



I20 



jMEANTIME o^er rocky Thrace and the deep vales 
"fe^ Of gelid Haemiis I pursued my flight ; 
And^ piercing farthest Scythia, westward swept 
Sarniatia traversed by a thousand streams. 
A sullen land of lakes and fens immense^ 
Of rocks, resounding torrents, gloomy heaths. 
And cruel deserts black with sounding pine ; 
Where Nature frowns ; though sometimes into smiles 
She softens, and immediate, at the touch 
Of southern gales, throws from th*e sudden glebe 
Luxuriant pasture and a waste of flowers. 
But, cold-compress'd, when the whole loaded heaven 
Descends in snow, lost in one white abrupt 
Lies undistinguished earth; and seized by frost 
Lakes, headlong streams, and floods, and oceans sleep. 

Thomson. 



S. gtioxt 

Cicero. ^WOW good must be the author of all goodness ! 

Caesar. And oh, how green the sower of all grass ! 

J. H. 



S^a C5tljnologists. 



^IVE up your search; the world's tribes arc but two— 
tl^Chcatcrs and cheated; of which tribe arc vou ? 

J. n. 



121 



If/ NTEREA Thraces scopulos gelidique per Haemi 
3 Ima uiam tendo fugiens^ Scythiaeque recessus 
Inuadens uel ad occiduos iter usque nouatum 
Sauromatas flecto^ fluuiis bis mille rigatos. 
Si stagnantue lacus, largisue paludibus unda 
Saxa lauat ; reboant amnes ; stant horrida campis 
Tesqua salebrosis resona nigrantia pinu. 
Hie Natura dolet ; necnon tamen est ubi risus 
Soluitur in faciles^ quotiens contacta Fauoni 
Flaminibus subiti uarios per uasta locorum 
Luxuriante solo submittit daedala flores. 
At, quum frigoribus niueis onerantibus aether 
Deciderit totus, strictim promiscua cano 
Terra iacet tractu ; uaga tunc deuincta pruinis 
Flumina, torrentes, aequor sopor occupat unus. 

A. 



Ca^BHr turn €mxoiu CauHIater. 

Cicero. -.A VAM bonus auctor erat primus bonitatis ! 

Caesar. Et O quam 

Graminis ipse sator primus erat uiridis ! 

J. F. D. 



VPLEX id genus est ; fraudant, fraudantur : omitte 
Cetera, et ipse in utrum die referare genus. 

J. F. D. 



122 



(an experiment in ENGLISH HEXAMETERS.) 

@'rEEBORN, valiant, and noble sons of the Emerald Island, 
\£3 Trodden, oppressed, and crushed by the iron heel of the 

Saxon, 
Rise ye ! sharpen your pikes, and cut your sprig of shillelagh. 
Rise ye ! strike a last blow for the sake of the freedom of Erin ! — 
" What do we want ? Who cares ? The sorra a one of us 

knows what. 
Give us the land to ourselves ! Dhrive out the Saxon invadher I 
Slaughther the Orangemen ! Give us whiskey without any duty I 
Then do ye ask will we rest ? Why then we ^11 considher 

about it. 
All thrue pathriots scorn the poor, contimptible man, who 
Dares to assert that the Irish aren^t oppressed and ill-thrated. 
False, base, could-blooded thraitor! it^s all as plain as a pikestaff 
All the landlords is Saxons — it ^s onlv the Saxons has money — 
Saxons trades in the country, and Saxons rules in the Island — 
Saxons can live in it — ergo, we are oppressed and ill-thrated. 
Vainly the Potters and Bealeses, and vainly the Greys and 

Maguires, 
Coolly bid us ' be patient,^ and tell us to ' wait and to trust 

them.' 
Trust them ? We trusted Stephens — he took our funds and 

skedaddled ! 
Trust them ? We trusted Gladstone. He gave us not freedom, 

but — pepper. 
Psha ! for the Irish Church. We don't want Rcpale o' the 

Union. 
Down wid the Redcoats ! Down wid the Sassenachs ! Up 

wid the Green Flag ! 
Erin go bragh ! Faughaballagh ! IToorav ! and down w ith the 

Peelers!" 

H. S. G. 






Crinitg ^alh^t, §iiblxn. 



, . . «%6t jubiXo^ iv S6f.iOLcnv. 

Eur. J^/asf/i, 



MICHAELMAS TERM, 



MDCCCLXX. 



SECOND EDITION. 



^^UBLIN: 



WILLIAM M^GEE, i8 NASSAU STREET. 

LONDON : BELL AND DALDY. 
1870. 



nrRLisr 

PBIN-TRn BY PORTKOUS XSD RIHRS 
WrCKliOW STllKBT. 



CONTRIBUTORS. 

A. ... Samuel Allen. 

G. F. A. ... George F. Armstrong. 

R. S. B. ... Ralph S. Benson^ Sch. 

B. ... T. J. B. Brady, Ex-Sch. 
H. C. ... Hastings Crossley^ Sch. 

C. ... Maxwell C. Cullinan^ Ex-Sch. 
J. F. D. ... John F. Davies, Ex-Sch. 

E. D. ... Edward Dowden. 

A. P. G. ... Alfred P. Graves, Sch. 

T. M. ... Thomas Maguire, Ex-Sch. 

J. P. M. ... John P. Mahaffy, F.T.C.D. 

F. M. ... F. Meredyth. 

M. ... TowNSEND Mills, Ex-Sch., U/iiv. Stud. 

p. ... Arthur Palmer, F.T.C.D. 

W. R. ... William Roberts, F.T.C.D. 

J. T. ... John Todhunter. 

T. ... Robert Y. Tyrrell, F.T.C.D. 

W. ... Thomas E. Webb, F.T.C.D. 

W. G. W. ... W. G. Wills. 



f Jfartto^lL 

fES, dearest^ keep the locV 
And keep the lock of h. 
To smile at some day queerl^, 

When neither has locks to spare : 

And keep the little letters. 

All the love that ever I wrote. 

They will make, if twisted neatly. 
Such excellent papillotes. 



E. D. 



^00 ©'apula Cantem. 

fN love one is anvil or hammer ^^ — 
Both have I been, I trow. 

He who has not been both cannot claim to know 
Of love the very grammar. 

Yet in love we are knit together 
So close — I am thou, thou art I — 
That the blows I receive as lightly lie 

As touches of a feather. 

Ah ! the secret is this, that the part 
They could reach was but my pride ; 
But I wounded thee once, my love, my bride — 

The stroke fell on my heart. 

M. 



J 24 



5al(n in our i^llm. 

u(|yF all the girls that are so smart, 
'^There^s none like pretty Sally; 
She is the darling of my heart, 

And she lives in our alley. 

There is no lady in the land 

Is half so sweet as Sally; 

She is the darling of my heart, 

And she lives in our alley. 

Her father he makes cabbage-nets. 

And through the streets does or) 'em ; 
Her mother she sells laces long 

To such as please to buy 'em : 
But sure such folks could ne'er beget 

So sweet a girl as Sally 1 
She is the darling of my heart. 

And she lives in our alley. 

When she is by, I leave my work, 

I love her so sincerely; 
My master comes like any Turk, 

And bangs me most severely — ■ 
But let him bang his bellyful, 

ril bear it all for Sally'; 
She is the darling of my heart. 

And she lives in our alley. 

Of all the days that's in the week, 

I dearly love but one day — 
And that the day that comes betwixt 

A Saturday and Monday ; 
For then I'm drest all in my best 

To walk abroad with Sally ; 
She is the darling of my heart. 

And she lives in our allev. 



125 

fe^VLLA inter nitidas^ puto^ puellas 
i])S} Conferri lepidae potest Megillae : 
Meae deliciae est, mei lepores, 
luxta nos habitans in angiportu. 
Ecquae nobilis et superba uirgo 
Tarn mellitula quam Megilla uiuit ? 
Illam depereo intimis medullis 
luxta nos habitantem in angiportu. 
Pauper cauliculis meae puellae 
Pater reticula et facit uehendis, 
Et uenalia clamitat per urbem, 
At matercula uenditat puellae 
Limbos, si quis emat, laboriosos. 
Sed credas caue plebe de scelesta 
Tales delicias fuisse natas : 
Illam plus oculis amo gemellis 
luxta nos habitantem in angiportu. 
Ad nos quum mea uentitat puella, 
Confestim, quod erat mihi negoti. 
Qui tarn perdite amem, lubens omitto 
Exsistit similis truci Britanno 
Iracundus herus, meisque malis 
Infringit colaphos seueriores : 
Sed per me colaphis iecur saginet ; 
Plagas nil moror ob meam puellam : 
Meae deliciae est, mei lepores, 
luxta nos habitans in angiportu. 
Non huius facio dies profestos — 
Festi plus oculis meis amantur ! 
Turn demum licet ire feriatum, 
Et cultum pretiosiore ueste 
Cum nostra spatiarier puella : 
Illam depereo impotente amore 
luxta nos habitantem in angiportu. 



126 

My master carries me to church. 

And often am I blamed 
Because I leave him in the lurch 

As soon as text is named ; 
I leave the church in sermon-time 

And slink away to Sally ; 
She is the darling of my heart, 

And she lives in our alley. 

When Christmas comes about again, 

O then I shall have money ; 
ril hoard it up^ and box it all, 

Fll give it to my honey : 
I would it wxre ten thousand pound, 

Fll give it all to Sally ; 
She is the darling of my heart. 

And she lives in our alley. 

My master and the neighbours all 

Make game of me and Sally, 
And, but for her, Pd better be 

A slave and row a galley ; 
But^ when my seven long years are out, 

O then ril marry Sally, — 
O then we'll wed, and then we'll bed. 

But not in our alley ! 

H. Carey. 



EI2 AFAAMA NI0BH2. 

*Ek fcorj? fjue Oeol rev^av \l6ov ' €k Se \i6oio 
Z(i)7]v npa^iTeXr](; efxiraXiv elpydaaro. 

Anthology, 



127 



Adsisto, domino trahente, sacris, 

Et male audio identidem, quod inde, 

Orarit bona uerba quum sacerdos, 

Herum inter medias preces hiantem 

Linquens aufugio ad meam puellam : 

Quae desiderium meum est, meum mel, 

luxta nos habitans in angiportu. 

Saturnalia nostra quum redirint, 

Prae manu quid erit mihi lucelli : 

Quantum quantum erit, arcula repostum, 

Dabo melliculo meo nitenti : 

Di faxint decies sit 1 usque ad assem 

Donabo in gremium meae puellae : 

Nam desiderium meum est, meum mel, 

luxta nos habitans in angiportu. 

At uicinia tota her usque mordax 

Ludos me facit, et meos amores : 

Et credo, nisi quod iuuat puella, 

Vitam uiuere liberaliorem 

In ergastula uernulas remissos : 

Sed post tempora tarda seruitutis 

A praetore meusque pileatusque 

Egressus fuero, et meam puellam 

Ducam, Hymen Hymenaee ! — at in malam rem 

Nostrum abire sinemus angiportum ! 



1X0^, 



Marmoream ex uiua potuit me Diuus, eandem 
Viuam ex marmorea reddere Praxiteles. 



J. P. M 



128 



t^t ^allair 0f tin Coimfcss. 



/^^ 



^ HERE was an old Countess of gay report, 
Q> Who was past her days for thinking — 



Thinking ; 



In monstrous hoop she went to court, 
And round her the gallants in malice or sport 
Went sliding, ogling, and winking — 
Winking. 

The mincing ladies pryM and peerM, 
But their envy was unavailing — 
-Availing ; 
And spindle-leggM old fops pry^l and peerM, 
Put up their glasses, and wickedly leerM, 
As down the room she went sailing — 
Sailing. 

Her check was full of smiling hate 

Through paint and patches wrinkling — 
Wrinkling; 
None was there with train so great. 
Her hair was a powderM pillar of state, 

And her corset with jewels was twinkling — 
Twinkling. 

Once this ancient lady^s smile. 

Now in paint and patches throbbing — 
Throbbing, 
Could simple men from their wives beguile. 
Win their devotion with mischievous wile, 
And leave the poor bride sobbing — 
Sobbing. 

Under her corset's jcwell'd mould 
The mortal (h'ops\' is hidini:: — ■ 
I lithnt;" ; 



129 

Fears of death come clammy and cold^ 
And visions of phantoms bloated and old 
Go winking, ogling, and sliding — 
SHding. 

Round this ancient lady^s bed, 

When in hideous death she was sinking — 
Sinking, 
The doctor who tended her till she was dead, 
A little dark man whose eyes glowM red, 
Went sliding, ogling, and winking — 
Winking. 

Ladies, beware of the Countesses fate. 
Yourselves on conquest priding — 
Priding, 
For, when your charms are out of date. 
Butterfly joys no longer will wait. 
And the world you loved around you in hate 
Will go winking, ogling, and sliding — 
Sliding. 

W. G. W. 



phtg's Status nt gloxma. 

f HERE'S a statue at Florence of Victor the King, 
And his arm is outstretchM over Arno ; his sword 
Points Southward and Romeward, motioning 
All Italy thither to march at his word : 

And there came to mine eyes a rushing of sweet. 
Glad tears, as I saw it ; a voice in my soul 

Singing ''Thither, O King, I would follow thy feet, 
And strike for the dream that makes Italy whole \'' 

G. F. A, 



I30 



llaub. 

^O not_, happy day, 
tj^From the shining fields. 
Go not, happy day. 

Till the maiden yields. 
Rosy is the West, 

Rosy is the South, 
Roses are her cheeks. 

And a rose her mouth. 



Tennyson, 



J^OW shalt thou surely fall beneath my might, 
(ii^ Wretch ! who has slain the bravest youths of Troy, 
Boasting that thou of heroes iirt the chief, 
And from a Nereid born ; but thou to-day 
Shalt cease thy vaunts for ever, for I spring 
From blest Aurora, goddess of the dawn. 
And me the Hesperides, as lilies fair, 
Rear'd in their bowers beside the ocean-streams. 
I hold thy strength in war but slight, thv birth 
Being than mine less noble, since I know 
How much a heavenly goddess doth excel 
A Nereid of the deep. My mother gives 
The rosy light (a precious benefit) 
To gods and men, who in the gift rejoice. 
But still inglorious doth thy mother sit 
Low in the sunless caverns of the sea 
Amid the wallowing fishes; therefore I 
W'vm her most worthless, when compared to them 
Who tread the 01ynii)ian floor. 

A. DvcE. 



EI2 KOPINNAN. 

Ov fxr) (TV, XevKov ^fiap, 
iTplv civ KopLVv' yiTeUr], 
ov ixri (TV, XevKov rj/juap, 
Xe/i^et? €7rav\a yaca^;; 
^Oi^ov fjiiv eaiLV avyrj 
TT/oo? eairepav poB6')(^pov<;, 
d/crc; 8' €7] /ji€(T'^pr}<; 
^alvei ^do<^ po^oxpovv, 
^lXtj 8^ ifiTj Kopivva 
TovTotcTiV eaO' ojjbola, 
poScbv yap r) irapeta, 

pOOOV be TO (TTOjJb eCTTL. 



R. S. B. 



MAAA a' ATTON EHOTPTNEI MAXE2A20AI. 

^A SeiX, -^ /jbdXa vvv ere KL')(f)(TeTai atV?)? oXeOpo^ 
Tcph' VTTo Bovpl SafJuevTa, rocrov^ ^iXov rjTop cuTrrjvpa^;, 
ol Tp(0(ov ')(epG-iv T€ Pij}(f>l T€ (pipTaTOC Tjcrav. 
7j pa ere Nrjprjo^^ dvydrrjp irpo^epeaTarov dWcov 
yelvaro; kolB Be Ke (j^rjfiL ere iravaefjuev ev')(cd\d(OV 
7]fiaTL T(p, Toiov [le TeKev ^eo? v'xIn/jbeBovaa 
'jEfft)9, 'EcTTreptBcov Be rpdcprjv viro \ei,pLoea(Tcov 
dXcrecTiv iv Kokoicn irap' 'flfceavolo peWpoi<^. 
rj fiaka Br) iToKkov ere //-^X^? BeveaOat otco, 
Kal fjuey' ipuelo X^PV^ <^' iyeivaro irorvia firjTr^p, 
ev yap olBa 6eo3v Blov yevo<^ vyjroO^ iovrcov 
ocTCTO) NrjprjBcdV dXidcdv (^eprepov e(TTt. 
^ 7^^ ifie reK€TO fjbrjrrip poBoecBh oird^ei 
6vr]To2<; T ddavdrot^ re (f)6co<^, ov jjuiKpov oveiap, 
ol Be (pavevTL ydvvvrat dirrjiJiovL, ctt) Be re firjTrjp 
vcovv/jLOV oItov e^et Bvo^eprj^^ ev PevOeai Xifivrj^;, 
iv y\a^vpol<i cnrrjeo-cn per l'yQv(Ti ^op^opoKouvai^i 
ol KaO' dXb^ fieya Xalrpia kv^lcttwct^ evda Kal evda. 
rrjv dp* iyot) davc^rjXov otop.ai ovB^ dXeyt^co 
Trpb^i 6eov<; ovpavmva<^ ^0\v/jb7rca BoapuaT e')(pvTa<^. 



'3 



(soph. ant. 781.) 
i'(^ LOVE ! who art conquest embodied ; 



''^^ O Victor in every fight; 
O Love ! who with power of the Godhead 

On the princes of Earth dost alight; 
Who at midnight dost take for thy pillow 

The cheek of the slumbering maid. 
And walkest abroad o^er the billow, 

And down in the pastoral glade ; 
God may fly not thy gladness and sadness, 

Nor man, though he lives but a day. 
And he that hath thee hath a madness 

Which sweeps through the soul in deray. 

In thy presence high equities dwindle ; 

Thou pervertcst the mind of the just; 
Betwixt brothers fierce wrath thou dost kindle ; 

And duty thou tramplest in dust. 
For who that is born may discover 

His escape, by resistance or flight. 
When to rapture Love beckons the lover 

With the look which is lure to delight ? 
Thou art mighty, O Love, thou art mighty, 

And all things acknowledge thy sway : 
For, O merciless queen. Aphrodite, 

Thou mockest the world in thy play ! 

W. 



1,33 



Still f obe. 

(eUR. HIPP. 1268.) 

fep HE mood which none other can sway, 
kS' Or in God in the heavens above, 
Or in man, the frail creature of clay. 

Thou mouldest at pleasure, O Love ! 
For with plumage of manifold dyes. 

And with swift wing which nothing can flee. 
Thy Minion still hovers and flies 

O^er the earth and the thunderous sea; 
And eager with madness to sting. 

And ready to stoop from his height. 
He is borne on unwearying wing. 

And glitters all gold in the light; 
And he softens the things of the fell. 

And the monsters begot of the spray. 
And the brood of the meadows that dwell 

In the glare of the eyes of the day, — 
And man ; for thy strength is divine. 

And of all things below and above 
The kingdom and glory are thine — 

Thine only, omnipotent Love ! 

W. 



34 



Song. 

&* HE rose, that in the springtide ventures forth 
& To woo the Zephyr with her crimson smiles 

And odorous wiles_, 
Too often chances on the cruel North : 

For every kiss of his cold lips 

With poisonous blight her beauty nips. 

Till one by one, with downcast head. 

She weeps away her petals red, 
And with the last bereft of life and light 
Sighs forth her passionate soul on the dark lap of night. 

A. P. G. 



©'t ilium Saigit^ §lcntm» 



f 



^ HREE children sliding on the ice, 
^ All on a summer's day. 
As it fell out, they all fell in. 
The rest they ran away. 

Now, had these children been at school, 

Or sliding on dry ground. 
Ten thousand pounds to one penny. 

They had not all been drownM. 

You parents that have children dear. 

And ckc you that have none, 
If you will have them safe abroad. 

Pray keep them safe at home. 

Gammer Gurton. 



^35 



QVAE rosa iam tepente 
Emicans anno Zephyrum sollicitat_, rubores 

Explicitura uernos, 
Blanda odoratis opibus fallere^ blanda risu^ 

Saepe niualis aurae 
Tacta languescit moriens asperiore labro. 

Haud secus ac ueneno 
Tincta mordaci calyces forma reliquit aegros ; 

Ipsaque dum supina 
Plorat efFusi decoris primitias rubentes^ 

Cum gemitu supremo 
Floreae accessura pyrae uita fugit sub umbras. 

H. C. 



MANTI2 XIN OT TETAOMAI. 



^flXladavov Xifivr] 'v ireirri<yvla ttot' eTrtTrXeoz^re? 

Tp6t9 TraZSe? * '^v 8^ aKfirj Oepov; • &)? S' eKirecrelv efxeKKeif 

aira^diravTe^ iveireaov ' ^pofiw S^ €cf)ev<yov aWoL. 

KaiTOL tot' iv TracEoTpL^ov ^rjirovOev el /cadlcrav, 

rj TTOcrlv iin ^rfpov je tto)? coXiaOov i7ro7r\eovTe<;, 

€vl (TTaTTJpi, fivpi,' r)6ek7]aa Trapa/SaXiadat 

ToXavT aVy el fir) Trat? Ti9 ifaTepT^ae tov irvLjTJvai,, 

irpo^ Tav6\ tV elhrjT^, w 701/6^9 iralha^; <piXov^ e^oz^re?, 

OL'S' ovv 7rap7](Tco Toi)9 702^669 ot TracBa^; ovk ecfyva-avj 

riv Tft) iJieXfT) fjLoX aoripaXeL^; 07ra)9 fxevovaLV e^co 

ol 7ratSe9, a(T^cLkel<i ye /jloc (j)v\aTTeTco Tt9 evSov. 

J. F. D. 



^i^asurc kx pleasure, ib. 3. 

fl Zev ^aaiXev, TreTrdrrjKa rrjvhe ti]V aTe'yr]v 
ifkelv Tj TO KkiGiov Aco^eKa/jLTj-^dvou TO irplv, 
(TTpovOol ryap eaXooKaaiv 017^ €1(j)06t6<; 
eKelcre (f)0LTav • 7]v, IBov, ^etStTTTrtST;? 

TLjJLrjjJb' OcfiXobV TaXaVTioloV dflVOKCOV, 

09 e')(^prio-aTO fiev to alX(f)L6p y', direSoTO Se — 
aaOpov yap rjv, vrj tov Kvva, kl/SEtjXov re Trpo? — 
yLtm? TTOv irapovTo^ dpyvpiov KaOapov fjbla^, 
eTeOvaaav yap TrdvT€<; o7ye BvctkoXol • 
Kov7)ala<; B' iprjfio(; cbv eXky')(eTai, 
i^vycbv ip^/JL7)v, rjv Tplwv eypdy^aTO 
')(Xaiv6)v fxdXa (^avo)v, ovcrLa<; d<pavov<; fidXa, 
6 AevT6povpyo<; epLOTTcoXrji; to)v nrdvv • 
KoOopvlSr]^ T€ M€Ta/xeX7]crLa^ re 7rpo<?, 
^SeXvpo^ 6' 6 XaXfcovi;, cbv 7rovr]pov K6iJL(jLaT0<^f 
^ft) ^/jLLKpLV7]<i 6 ixa')(pii€vo<^ SopvSp67rdvq), 
p^ft) Ad/JLa')(^o<; 6 TOP WrjTTav eyKoX7]pd.aa^, 
Kal IIouXvSaijLa<^ 6 Trar^/KpaTiaaTr]^, Kd/LL7ropo<i 
Ueparj^y 6 aauXoirpcofCTicbv Tal^ UepcnKalf;, 
^W97rep TOV 'Aa-Kov eo-'^ao'ev KotvXwv CTrj<^ 
TToXi;? T6 Tt? Ta T?}? Pez^eTuX-X/So? Tpc^cbv — 
TO Tradelv jiaOelv yap — ejjL^aXe KvXXrj fjueTefiaOov. 

T. M. 

%{itx tbc f aurijah. 

(" FLOWER IN THE CRANNIED WALL," ETC.) 

^ERRTER in my granny^s hall, 
bi I whistle you out of my granny's ; 
Hold you here, tail and all, in mv hand. 
Little terrier : but, if 1 eould understand 
What you are, tail and all, and all in all, 
I should know what ^^ black and tan '' is. 

C. 



137 
(Sag "§xobma, 

^'rOVENCAL air, Proven9al air, 

kJ Blown soft by dale and sea, 

Who throws the throbbing bosom bare. 

And bathes himself in thee. 
Who feels thee faint on cheek and brows. 

Who quaffs thee through the lips. 
With love and light and music glows 

From foot to finger-tips. 

He lives a king in court and hall. 

Mid wail of wildering lyres ; 
A priest by carven cloister wall, 

Or dim cathedral choirs; 
A knight with airy lance in rest. 

Who rides in lonely vale ; 
A page by queenly hand caressM 

By gate or vineyard- pale ; 

He loiters in a golden light. 

Is led with dulcet lure. 
By ghostly town, by towerM height, 

A tuneful troubadour ; 
He pines for soft imagined eyes. 

Where fictive fervour beams. 
And woos with phantom tears and sighs 

The lily dames of dreams. 

Proven 9 al air, Provencal air, 

Blown soft by dale and sea, 
O subtle, playful spirit rare, 

O wanton witchery. 
Well, well I love that land of thine-— 

Grey peaks and scarped caves. 
And fields of olive, orange, vine. 

Blue bavs and breaking waves. 

G, F. A. 



i3« 



fife's J-;ilfuI J->ijer. 

oG HE had left all on earth for him — 
oSHer home of wealthy her name of pride ; 
And now his lamp of love was dim. 
And, sad to tell, she had not died. 

She watchM the crimson sun^s decline 

From some lone rock that fronts the sea — 

" I would, O burning heart of mine, 
There was an ocean-rest for thee. 

" The thoughtful moon awaits her turn. 
The stars compose their choral crown. 

But those soft lights can never burn 
Till once the fiery sun is down/^ 

Lord Houghton. 



C0 tlj^ ,§pving, 

UPON THE UNCERTAINTY OF CASTARA'S ABODE. 

IP AIRE mistresse of the earth, with garlands crownM, 
'K^ Rise by a lover^s charme from the parcht ground. 
And shew thy flow^y wealth ; that she, where ere 
Her starres shall guide her, meete thy beauties there. 
Should she to the cold northcrne climates goe. 
Force thy affrighted lillies there to grow ; 
Thy roses in those gelid fields t' appeare ; 
She absent, I have all their winter here. 
Or, if to th^ torrid zone her way she bend, 
Her the coole breathing of Favonius lend ; 
Thither command the birds to bring their quires. 
That zone is temperate, I have all his fires. 

Attend her, courteous Spring, though we should here 

Lose by it all the treasures of the yeere. 

Habington. 



139 



tOBILITATE domus florens et laude pudoris 
v_A^ Omnia perdiderat posthabuitque uiro ; 
lamque illi marcebat amor^ nee fata puellae 

Hen ! miserae dederant oceubuisse prius. 
E scopulo solo solum qui prospieit aequor 

Purpureum uidit praecipitare iubar ; 
" Ah ! ubi flammato dabitur requiescere cordi/' 

Dixit^, '^ ut Hesperiis sol requiescit aquis ? 
Sidera gemmantes nectunt sociata choreas^ 

Conseiaque exspectat Luna subire uices ; 
Mitibus at nunquam datur his splendescere flammis 

Dempserit igniferis dum iuga Phoebus equis."" 



B, 



DE PHYLLIDE INCERTA VBI SISTERE DETVR. 

iS IVA potens terrae^ pulchris redimita corollis, 
fe) Poseit amans^ sicco surge benigna solo ; 
Surge^ ut inexhaustas mea lux_, quocumque uocarint 

Fata^ uenustates cernat ubique tuas. 
Sine ad hyperboreum Scythiae peruenerit axem_, 

Lilia per gelidas coge subire plagas ; 
Siqua rigent illic^ rosa fac se iactet in amis ; 

Phyllide desertum me tenet omnis hiems. 
Sine sub ardentem Libyae uaga flexerit orbem^ 

Flamine da Zephyri sit recreanda tui ; 
Contulerint illuc uolucres sua carmina ; tractus 

Temperies illos_, me calor omnis habet. 
I comeSj o ueris decus^ i ; sic undique nobis 

Deficiant quotquot fuderit annus opes. 



40 



(loosely rendered from the greek of bion.) 

r/5?N the green turf flooring the hills of chase — 
"^Meet couch for jaded hunter— lo ! is lying 
The young Adonis ; but that pallid face 

Droops not in slumber — nav^ alas ! he^s dying ; 
ScarrM by the wild boards tusk his snowy limb 

Trembles with pain : and there in speechless anguish, 
Her fond eyes with a cloud of tears all dim, 

His Goddess love beholds her fair flower languish ; 
His breath too weak to dull the mirror^s disc ; 

His faint pulse scarce responding to her fingers ; 
The blood for which her deity sheM risk — 

More carmine than the sky where sunset lingers — 
Welling away, and bearing with it life ; 

Beneath the lids, like violet cups dew-laden. 
Close heavily the orbs no longer rife 

With the bright ray that kindled many a maiden; 
BlanchM is the lip — its bloom, as Autunm^s rose 

UncrimsonM, and its clusterM kisses flying, 
Like Hybla^s bees when Winter^s herald blows. 

That stay no longer since the flower is dying. 
Distracted Kypris ! ah, how wildly now 

Dost thou the rapture of that lip remember. 
And on thine own would'st catch the wonted glow 

To light' it up from the expiring ember. 
Tliat j)rcssure thrills him not; he feels no more 
I Icr breath ambrosial, like the fire of Heaven 
By Titan pilfcr'd, vivify his core, 

As if electric potency were given. 



141 

Alas for Kytherea ! Earth has none 

Like hinij Adonis^ Beauty^s best creation ; 
She clasps his mangled limb_, now chill as stone^ 

And thus laments her hearths dark desolation : 
" My lost Adonis ! rash and reckless boy ! 

Too deeply loved_, too prematurely blighted. 
Has thus then closed my sudden dream of joy. 

Thus died the lamp of love thy smile had lighted ? 
Is this the last time that my soul shall drink 

Revival from thy presence, in such sorrow- 
As he who by a desert fountain's brink 

Knows 'twill have faiPd before the dawning morrow ? 
In vain my folding arms may stay thee now. 

My kisses win thee from the way thou goest. 
The path to stern Aidoneus' realms below ; — 

Ah ! me no more, mine earthly love, thou knowest. 
How impotent is my divinity. 

Albeit Gods and men own me their sovereign, 
I cannot rescue, not e'en follow thee ; 

Love's sway extends not where the Infernals govern 1 
Could Eos grant the boon of deathlessness ? 

Art thou unworthier than her Tithonus ? 
Is Aphrodite than Aurora less. 

And may not save from fate her loved Adonis ? 
Persephone ! my spirit's wedded one 

Receive where with the Lord of Shades thou dwellest^ 
Since even me, the Queen of Beauty's throne. 

Victress of Ida, thou in power excellest. 
Lorn one ! to me Heaven's golden light dim seems ; 

Air's music hoarse; wither'd Earth's scenes Elysian; 
While from my widow'd heart Love's rapturous dreams 

And Joy's sweet trance fade like a fleeting vision." 

F. M. 



142 



pOW is the winter of our discontent 
^A'Made glorious summer by this sun of York^ 
And all the clouds that lowerM upon our house 
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. 
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, 
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments, 
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, 
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. 
Grim-visaged war hath smoothM his wrinkled front, 
And now — instead of mounting barbed steeds 
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries — 
He capers nimbly in a lady^s chamber 
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. 

Shakespeare. 



Uibiama. 

wKtND let me the canakin clink, clink ; 
^:i:!) And let me the canakin clink ; 

A soldier \s a man ; 

A life \s but a span ; 



Whv, then, let a soldier drink. 



Shakespeare 



143 



NTN XPH ME0T20HN. 

Nvv Br) <7K€Bdaa<; '^ei/MMva Ev7]<; 
T^Xfco? rjfjiLV arjfjba Trarpmov 
heiKwai depov<? aeka<^ evcpeyyi^; ' 
TO B^ virepO' oUwv ve(/)09 rj/jLerepcov 
ovK ecTTtv IBelv arvyvbv, Kevdeb B' 

oiKeavov koXtto^; d/SixTaov. 
<7T€L')(0fjb€v tjBt] Kpetaaove^i i^Opwv 
K0(7/j,r)6evT6^ Kpdra^ are^dvoi^, 
fivrjfjia Be VLKr]<; 

ottX' yfjildpavcTT' iKpe/bLdaOr}. 
OVK6TI, yaXa crrt^o? iToXefJLov 
']Tape')(eL Beivr)^ /jueO' ottXcov Kava')(fj(;, 
dW etXaiTLva^ Kcofjiov<; 6' IXapov^;, 
dvTi B^ €9 dXKTjv op/jLrj<; repirval 

TToB' ifjLov KaTe')(ov(Ti ')(ope2aL. 
(TTvyvrjv B' 6cf)pvv yopjcoiro^ "Apr]<i 
Xvcra<; dvBpcov ovk eKirXrjaaei 
<j)peva<; dvTtiraXoav LTTiTelaLcnv, 
KovpaL<; B' eparat vvv ^v/jLTral^ecu 
Kol iroXvxppBwv 

IxoXiTOiv uiro Kovipa ')(opeveL. 



W. R. 



5K0AI0N. 

^t9 olvov ijKdva^ov • 
Tph 3' olvov ijKdva^ov ' 
fiiof; ydp iart puKpoVj 
6vT}T0^ Be %ft) /jLaxv^V^ ' 
eT ovVf arf , eyKdva^ov. 



T, M. 



J44 



(a love song by our own classic bard.) 

jSiH, sweet Aglaia ! 
^^?^The winds fleet by us, 
Blithe sons of Maia, 

O^er the looming lias ; 
Where the bleak Mastodon 

In his starry vigils 
Grey flowers hath trod on, 

And the sounding strigils 
Of bards Boeotian 

In Maenalian numbers 
Have startled Ocean 
From ideal slumbers, — 
Where we, my Aglaia, in smoothed air 
Bask upon honeydew, and read Lothair : 

O white Aglaia 

Ah, dim Aglaia ! 

When the purple even. 
Like a jewelPd Ayah, 

Comes to hush the heaven 
To lulling fancies 

Of the creamy Condor, 
O^er empyreal pansies 

We shall wander, wander ; 
While the lithe Osiris 

With his troop of blisses 
Shall for aye inspire us 

To a morn of kisses ; 
And still-wild Astarte through dizzying dew 
Shall languidly our pearled sobs renew : 

O red Aglaia ! 

J. T 



H5 



t #^f0rir S0lar put^. 

A CONTRIBUTION TO COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY. 

(^Dedicated, without permission, to the Rev. G. W. Cox, M.A.) 
W VERY singular tradition^ possibly due to the influence of 



classical Paganism in the course of study^ still preserves, 
in the Oxford of the nineteenth century^ the evident traces of 
that primeval Nature-worship whereby the earliest parents of 
the Aryan race marked their observance of the phenomena of 
the heavens. As so often occurs^ the myth has assumed a 
highly anthropomorphic and concrete form^ has gradually been 
incrusted with the deposits of later ages, and has been given a 
historical, or rather a biographical dress, which thereby veils, 
under modern names and ideas of the West, the legends cur- 
rent four thousand years ago on the table-lands of Transoxiana. 
The legend takes its not infrequent shape of celebrating a 
great teacher passing from his Eastern birth-place on to the 
West, making his home therein, achieving great triumphs, and 
yet succumbing, in his chiefest struggle, to a power myste- 
riously identical with that which gave him being. The sym- 
bolical name by which the hero was deified, even in our own 
days, is Max Mltller. The purely imaginative and typical 
character of this title appears at the first glance of a philo- 
logist. Max is of course Maximus, iui6yc(7T0<i, identical with 
the Sanskrit maha. Miiller, applied in the late High German 
dialects to the mere grinder of corn, denotes in its root-form a 
pounder or crusher. It comes from the radical mar, "grinding^-' 
or '^'^ crushing.''^ At once then we see that the heroes name 
means simply " Chief of Grinders. ^^ There are two explana- 
tions of this given. The more popular, but less correct one, 
identifies grinder and teacher — a metaphor borrowed from the 
monotonous routine whereby an instructor of the young has to 
pulverize, as it were, the solid grains of knowledge, that they 



146 

may be able to assimilate it. The more scientific aspect of the 
question recognizes here the Sun-God, armed with his hammer 
or battle-axe of light, pounding and crushing frost and clouds 
alike into impalpability. We are not left to conjecture in such 
a matter, for the weapon of Thor or Donar, wherewith he 
crushes the Frost-giants, in Norse mytholog\^ is named Mjohiir, 
from at mala, " to crush " or '^ mill.^^ 

Thus far, however, there might be a merely accidental coinci- 
dence of name, or the title might be a hereditary one in a 
priestly family devoted to the Sun-God^s service. We require 
more exact data before we can with authority allege that Max 
Miiller is indeed the Sun, or rather the Dawn, himself. But 
these data are accessible and abundant. In the first place 
the legends are unanimous in representing him as a foreigner, 
travelling from the East, but making his home in the West 
and received there by all as though native to the soil. This is 
very important. If he were depicted as indigenous, or as 
coming from North, or South, or West, the difftculty to be over- 
come, though by no means insurmountable, would be consider- 
able. The Eastern origin however obviates any doubt of this 
nature. Next, fable has not been slow to localize his birth-place. 
He is invariably called a German. This looks at first as though 
merely denoting the rough way in which an untutored people is 
content to transfer the origin of any strange thing to the nation 
nearest to itself in the direction of transit, just as even still 
the inhabitants of Norway suppose storms to be sent them by 
the wizards of Lapland and Finland. Germany, being the 
nearest country to the east of England, may thus have natu- 
rally been selected as the Sun-God^s birth-place; but a deeper 
idea seems to underlie the title. The duality of the Sun and 
Moon is too remarkable a plicnomenon ever to have escaped 
popular attention ; and we find them represented in almost 
every known mythology as brother and sister, Helios and 
Selene, Apollo and Artemis, Janus and Diana, and tlic like. 
Here then is a clue. It is not nationality, but brotherhood 
to tlie Moon which is denoted, and Miiller the German is 
neitlur more nor less tlian the Cuiiiiatuis Apo/io of Latin poets. 



147 

Again^ having invented his birth-place^ it was necessary, as 
the myth became more concrete^ to provide him with a father 
also. The legend relates that his father was one Wilhelm 
Miiller^ a poet. Herein a very singular aspect of the solar 
myth^ common to all its purest forms, appears. Darkness is 
the parent out of which the Dawn comes, a parent dethroned 
by its offspring, as typified in the story of Kronos and Zeus. 
Wilhelm is simply Will-hjaelm, the ''helmet of force/' or ''of 
strength.'-' What is this helmet ? We have it over and over 
again in our nursery legends ; as the " cap of darkness '' [tarn- 
kappe) worn by Hasan of El-Basra in the " Arabian Nights/' 
by Jack the Giant-killer, and by Dwarf Trolls in Norse and 
Teuton stories, and above all by Sigfrit in the Niebelungen 
Lied. It is thus simply the covering of clouds and obscurity 
which overspreads the heavens when the Sun has disappeared ; 
and William Miiller is only the Night, hidden but powerful, 
the v6(j)6\7]y6p6Ta Zev^;, who is father of Apollo Helios. Night 
is typified as a poet, because all sounds are heard so clearly and 
distinctly during its course, just as the song of the primeval 
bard was the only voice loud enough to make itself audible in 
the stillness of pre-historic ages. 

The Sun-God appears next, but still in the same relation, in 
his other character of teacher and enlightener, an idea sym- 
bolized by Max Miiller editing the Vedas at the instigation of 
Bunsen =^ Bundes-sohn, {vinculijilius,) another Teutonic hero, 
who typifies the offspring of that darkness which chains the 
world in the prison of night. Max is not called — and this is 
noteworthy — the author of the Vedas, or books of knowledge, 
but only their editor or translator. The meaning of this is 
plain. Sunrise does not create the sensible world for us at 
each recurrence, but it makes it visible and knowable by us. 
Bunsen sending Miiller to achieve the task is only another 
form of the myth which makes Wilhelm the father of Max.^ 

* That Max Miiller is not called the atctkor, but only the translator or editor of 
the Vedas, has puzzled many who have read his great work. This curious inver- 
sion of language, so inexplicable except to the comparative mythologist, obtains a 
significance only on the principle suggested in the text. 



148 

The next point of Interest in the fable is the place where the 
Sun-God fixes his sacred abode. It is noteworthy that in no 
case do we find the special shrine of Apollo in the chief city 
of any land. Athens was the beloved home of Pallas Athene ; 
Sparta, of the Dioskuri; Ephcsus, of Artemis; Ronie^ of Jupiter 
Optinius Maximus and Mavors Gradivus : but Apollo always 
chooses a smaller and more sacerdotal citv as his dwelling — 
Delphi, DeloSj Patara. So the priestly city of Oxford is in the 
English legend assigned to Max Miiller. Let us see why. 
Ox-ford, as all philologists know, is not Bocnropo^. Ox is Usk, 
uisge = water ; and the compound word means no more than 
the '^ ford of the river.^' We shall best see its relation to the 
Sun-god by turning to the Edda. We find there that all the 
Aesir ride over the rainbow-bridge Bifrost to Valhalla, except 
Thor, who has to wade on foot through four rivers — Kormt, 
Ormt, and the two Kerlaug streams. This denotes, of course, 
the Sun making his way by slow degrees through the watery 
clouds, and at length attaining the mid-heaven. 

The task of the Sun, when he has fairly begun to climb the 
sky, is to spread the great blue mantle over it. This mantle is 
w^oven or stitched^ if w^e take the Sanskrit myth, by the Harits or 
Hours, the Xaptre^ of the Greeks. We find it styled in poetical 
language the "cope of heaven. ^^ And by a quaint grotesqueness 
of metaphor we discover this function of the Dawn symbolized 
under the formula of Max Miiller being at first Professor in the 
Taylorian Institution. Taylor Ian here^ of course^ is not a patro- 
nymic or eponymous adjective, but a tropological epithet. In 
Greek mythology Artemis, as well as Athene, is mistress of 
the loom; but in this curious myth her brother appears as 
superintending the tasks of the divine maidens who ply their 
shuttle and shape the garment of the heavens at his connnand. 
Here too we find cropping up the struggle with the powers of 
darkness. Max Miiller is Taijloridii : lie cuts away with his 
glittering shears the ragged edges of cloud ; he allows the 
" chij)s,^^ or cuttings from his "workshop,^' to descend in fer- 
tilizing showers upon the earth. 



149 

But he has a foe striving to cast a black mantle over the sky 
which he would fain clothe in blue. This foe does not merely 
trim or patch together the work of others^ as a tailor, but is the 
original maker of his own product ; and thus he is symbolically 
called Weber^ or weaver. And while Max is of more account 
in the West, Weber reigns securely over the East, which the 
other has quitted. 

But even the Western sky is no secure dominion. All 
through the earliest poetry, and the remotest legends of ancient 
races, we find the note of sorrow for the decline of day following 
at once on the triumphal tone which marks the ascent of the 
Sun to the zenith. The combat with the powers of darkness, 
which began wdth victory, is resumed, and always ends in defeat. 
Hence the wailing for Yanbushadh, for Thammuz or Adonis, 
for the Dorian Apollo, and for Baldur. The solar legend shines 
clearly yet through the mists in which the ignorance of our 
uncritical age had enveloped it. The Sun-God, fresh from his 
Vedas, enters upon a struggle wdth a competitor, apparently 
of the feeblest, for the throne of the sky. This throne in the 
Oxford myth is called the Boden Chair. Boden is not an 
English word. We must look to the Sun-God^s home for its 
meaning; and we find that in the Teuton language hoden is 
floor. Only one floor can be meant ; that of which the greatest 
of English poets speaks — 

" Look how the floor of heaven 
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold." 

There are two most remarkable circumstances in this legend 
of the strife for the Boden Chair, which put its mythical origin 
quite beyond all doubt. In the first place the overthrow of 
Max in the struggle is said by all the bards to be due^ not to 
the result of a single combat with his adversary, wherein he 
must needs have been victorious, but to the gathering together 
at the sacred city of a number of obscurantist beings, clothed 
in black, and assembling from all parts of the country to secure 
the victory of the inferior warrior. It is almost superfluous to 
point out that this legend denotes no more than the black 



clouds assembling from all quarters of the heavens to hide the 
brightness of the Sun. If any doubt yet remained, it would 
be dispelled by the name of the feeble victor, the Paris who 
slays Achilles, the Aegisthus of this Agamemnon, the Hod of 
our Baldur. The name given to him in the myth is Monier 
Williams. The intelligent reader will at once see that this 
is only a new aspect of the earliest part of the myth. Monier 
is plainly enough meunier, molinarius, miller = Miiller. 
WilUams we had before. Monier Williams then = Wilhelm 
Miiller; and the father, as in the story of Sohrab and Rustum, 
slays his beloved son. What is this but that the Darkness, 
out of which the Dawn sprang in its infancy, also re-absorbs it, 
and hides its glory at the end of its career ? This is the reason 
for the singular inversion of the order of the names. At first 
the darkness is the primary fact, and the power it exercises only 
the secondary one; and thus the helmet or tarn-kappe is put 
first, and the epithet of grinder or crusher in the lower place. 
But in the latter part of the myth the slaying of the Sun-God 
is the earlier event, and not until that is accomplished, and the 
Western sky is red with his blood, does the victor put on the 
helmet of will, and spread darkness over the heavens. 

There are consolations even in defeat. A bridal, in the myste- 
rious life which follows death, is accomplished in the Western 
land ; and that legend which takes so many shapes — the mar- 
riage of Uranus and Gaea, the descent of Zeus in golden shower 
on Danae, and the like — is brought before us again in the 
wedding of Max Miiller and the mortal maiden Grenfell, who 
denotes the green hill or mountain pasture on which the Sun 
delights to shine. We have this idea of the domestic joys of 
Helios, even after his declension and setting, preserved for us 
in Greek poetry — 

^Aekio^ 8^ 'TTrepLoviBa^ Beiraii ia-Kare^aLve 
')(^pv(Teov, 6(j)pa Si wiceavolo irepdaa^i 
d(pifcoiO^ lepci^; irorl ^evOea vvkto<; €pe/jbva<; * 
ttotI fidrepa, Kovpihlav r' dXo')(ov 
Tralhd's T€ (/)/\ofs\ — A Rcii i r.ocii us. 



151 

Thus we see the great teacher passhig from the waters to the 
verdant slopes, from Oxford to Grenfell — 

^otra^; S^ vTrepirovriO'^ ev r' 

aypov6fjbOL<; avkah. — Soph. Antig. 754. 

He re-appears however, if not as perennial holder of the 
throne on the floor of the sky, yet as the expounder of speech, 
or, in the Euhemerist phrase of sceptics, " Professor of Com- 
parative Philology/^ What are we to understand by this title ? 
No more than that sudden awakening of the sounds of Nature 
which greets the sunrise as night vanishes with its darkness 
and silence. Hence the epithet TTavojK^aio^, " Source of all 
speech,^^ given to Zeus as Dyauspati, and to Hehos also, as in 
Ouintus Smyrnaeus — 

Tov pa re (^acrtv 
efJbjjbevai 'HeXiOLo iravo^^aioio Ovyarpcov 

BcLKpV. POSTHOMERIC. V. 62,^. 

There can be no question that the meaning " inspirer of all 
oracles '' is a development of a far later age, when the meteoro- 
logical idea had been lost; and there is a comparatively obscure 
legend which seems at first to point in the same direction. 
Nothing is clearer than that the sacred city of Oxford was the 
chosen shrine of the hero Max Miiller. But he appears as a 
passing meteor in the annals of the other holy town of the 
English land. Cambridge alleges that for a day he was Rede 
Lecturer in her halls. Cambridge is the "cam'' or crooked 
bridge (compare "game'' leg, camhuca) of the sky, i.e. the 
Rainbow. What is Rede? Two rival theories exist. The 
first sees in the word the notion of counsel or advice. So m 
the ballad of King Estmere — 

" Rede me, rede me, deare brother, 
My rede shall ryde at thee. " 

The Rede Lecturer then will be simply Apollo Pythius, the god 
of counsel, applied to in some one sudden emergency. The 
other view seems more tenable. It sees in Rede the Norse 
reidh, a chariot, the Latin rheda, and recognizes in the title 



152 

Rede-Lchrer, not a lecturer at all, but Ving-Thor himself, the 
driver of the liery car, whence he is called Hlorridi, from at hlua, 
to glow or burn, and reidh,"^ 

Another legend, belonging to Oxford, calls Max Miiller for 
a time by the singular title of '^Fellow (or Companion) of All 
Souls,'' and ceases to give him this appellation after he meets 
with the nymph Grenfell. Here is a difficulty needing solu- 
tion. Hermes, not Apollo, is the -v/rTy^j^oTro/xTro? of Greek mytho- 
logy, and the epithet is one apphed, in the Alkestis, to Charon 
also. It is only in the Edda that we find the answer. Odin, 
who is a Sun -god as well as Thor, though he usually sends the 
Valkyrier to conduct the souls of slain heroes to Vingolf, yet 
sometimes, in his character of Valfodhr, is himself the guide of 
such chieftains as, nobly born and clad in warriors' armour, 
have died with more than common valour and renown. And 
thus the ancient statutes of the Fellowship show that all souls 

* The identification of Cambridge with the rainbow, or curving bridge of the 

sky, at once simple and convincing, clears up the difficulty about Max Miiller's 

one visit there, and his immediate return to dwell at Oxford. For the legend is 

in minute agreement with the Edduic myth, which tells how Thor essayed once, 

and once only, to drive over Bifrust in his war-chariot, but had to desist, lest he 

should set the bridge on fire. He returned ever after to his wading through the 

four rivers of which we have spoken above ; that is, to Ox-ford. And the myth 

of the Sun's chariot, common to Greek legend, finally settles the meaning of Redey 

putting the interpretation "counsel " out of court. Another obscure legend, quite 

dissociated from llie Miiller myth, confirms remarkably the identification of 

Oxford with the water, and Cambridge with the sky. There is a tradition still 

handed down that a strife, constantly renewed, existed between these two cities, 

not, as one should anticipate, in the rivalry of learning, but in some way connected 

with ships or boats. When so engaged, the names of Oxford and Cambridge are 

dropped, and those of Dark Blue and Light Blue appear in their stead. The 

former of these titles, applied to Oxford, points at once to the o'lvora. tovtov, the 

mare ptirpureum of Greek and Latin poets, and the "dark blue sea" of a famous 

English bard, while the rival epithet, describing the lighter shade of the heavens, 

(compare Theocritus, y\a.ux.kv vaiovffocv W ««, [Idyll Ixvi, 5,] and Ennius, cae/t 

caerula tcmphi) is applied to Cambridge, and the true meaning of the myth comes 

out by the reference to boats, as we thus learn that it typifies the astonishment of 

the first Aryans who reached the Caspian and the Persian Gulf, at the elemental 

strife of a storm at sea, when sky and waves seem to those in a ship to be crashing 

together. 

" The sky, it seems, would pour clown stinkiriR pitch, 
Hut that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, 
Dashes the tire out." — l EMrKsr, Act i., Scene 2. 



153 

are not meant to be honoured, but only the souls of those who 
are bene nati and lene vestiti, the true Einherjar of the founda- 
tion. These departed heroes are no other than the sunbeams, 
slain by the advancing powers of darkness, but collected again 
by their father, the Sun, who burns them on the glowing pile 
of the Western evening sky, and then revives them once more 
to shine in Gladsheim. The loss of this office of -v/rfxoTro/xTro? 
on wedding a mortal is a myth which has several congeners. 
It is akin to that of Orpheus and Eurydike, though less tragic 
in its termination j and its meaning here plainly is the return 
of the Sun to Earth from the unseen "combination-room'^ 
whither his rays vanished at his setting. He returns to living 
nature, and is, as stated above, not any more " Fellow of All 
Souls,'' silent and ghostly, but Professor of all Languages, 
vocal and embodied. This office however ties him to earth; 
and we fmd the story of Apollo's servitude to Admetus re- 
peated; because the task imposed on the hero is to look after 
the training of the young Bulls. He thus appears as Phoebus 
Nomios; and a confusion between the oxyton word w/xtJ or 
vojjbo^;, pasture, and the paroxyton word voiio^, law, has led to 
a curious error in the Cambridge form of the myth. In this 
imperfect record Max Miiller is styled " Doctor of Laws," as 
though he were Thesmophoros. But that epithet belongs properly 
to Dionysus — 

Oea-fJbocj^opov Kokico vapdrjKO(p6pov Alovvctov. 

Orphica. xlii. 1. 

and the more exact Oxonian records preserve his true title as 
" Master of Arts." This is not merely the Apollo of Parnassus, 
leader of the Muses, inspirer of poetry, painting, and sculpture, 
beautiful as such a personification is. It goes far deeper ; and 
we see in Max Miiller, M.A., the elemental Fire-god, whose 
chief manifestation is the Sun, but whose heat and light are 
essential to all life and manufacture. And thus he is described 
in Aeschylus — 

TO aov yap avdo<^, Travri'xvov irvpo^ aeka^. 

Prom. Vinct. 7. 



1j4 

A fnigjiient of a solar hymn, apparently having reference to the 
hero or divinity Muller, is still chanted by children in the mvstic 
rites of the gynaeceum — ■ 

"Inhere was a jolly Miller 

Lived on the river Dee, 
And thus the burden of his song 

For ever used to be — 

I jump mejerrime jee ! 
I care for nobody, no, not I, 

And nobody cares for me !" 

Jolhj is of course Jovialis, noting that the Mullcr referred to 
is no mortal, but the son of Jo vis or Dyaus ; and the river is, 
of course, the Ox-ford [Uisge) through which he daily wades. 
He is the master of song, because the birds commence their 
music as he rises. Mejerrime jee presents great difficulty. It 
is clearly a trace of the primeval lay, and is as hard to explain 
as k6^^ ofiira^. The earlier word looks Oscan, and seems to be 
the superlative of the root 7naj, ''great,'' which we have in 
maj-estas, major (Spanish, ?72^'o7-,) and then, probably, majorrimus. 
The second word most likely stands for age; and the whole 
phrase denotes the quick leap of the levin-brand from the cloud. 
The interpretation MeyapoKr] yPj, though ingenious, is untenable. 
And in the two closing lines, wherein some have thought the 
disposition of a human Max Miiller to be exactly pourtrayed, 
those who, with truer science, acknowledge him to be a solar 
myth will recognize that grand impassive inexorability of natu- 
ral phenomena which at once strikes and awes every untutored 
man as well as every civilized philosopher. 

It is not easy to overrate the interest and value of such a 
legend as this to the comparative mythologist. Few solar myths 
are so detailed and various, and perhaps there is none which 
brings together in so concentrated a focus the special charac- 
teristics of Sanskrit, Hellenic, and Norse fable. 






Cnnilg €a\UQt, litWiit. 



JToXt'9 Be KOTTCL^wv apajfio<i 
. . . «%€? fjueXo^ iv Bofjioicnv. 

Eur. Pleisih. 



HILARY TERM, 

MDCCCLXXI. 



WILLIAM MCGEE/ i8 NASSAU STREET. 

LONDON : BELL AND DALDY. 
1871. 



* 



DUBLIIf 

PBINTKl) BY PORTEOUS AWD GIBBS 

WICKLOW STKBKT. 



KOTTABIHTAI. 



xa.. 

G. 


F. A. 


B. 




H. 


C. 


C. 


' 


J. 


F. D. 


J. 


H. De B. ... 


E. 


D. 


W 


. W. F. ... 


H. 


S. G. 


A. 


P. G. ... 


M 


H. 


J. 


H. 


W 


. H. S, M. ... 


C. 


P. M. 


P. 


* 


w 


. R. 


A. 


W. S. 


J. 


T. 


T. 




J. 


F. iw. .;. 


J. 


s. w. 


F. 


c. w. ... 



Samuel Allen. 

George F. Armstrong. 

Thomas J. B. Brady, Ex-Sch. 

Hastings Crossley, Sch. 

Maxwell C. Cullinan, Ex-Sch. 

John F. Davies, Ex-Sch. 

John H. De Burgh. 

Edward Dowden. 

William W. Flemyng. 

Henry S. Gabbett. 

Alfred P. Graves, Sch, 

Michael Haynes. 

James Henry, Ex-Sch. 

William H. S. Monck, Ex-Sch. 

Charles Pelham Mulvany, Ex-Sch. 

Arthur Palmer, F.T.C.D. 

William Roberts, F.T.C.D. 

Annesley W. Streane, Sch. 

John Todhunter. 

Robert Y. Tyrrell, F.T.C.D. 

John Francis Waller. 

James S. Welland. 

Freeman C. Wills. 



( 



(from the GERMAN OF SALIS.) 

fW HE Grave is deep and silent, 
kj> Awful its brink and lone ; 
^Xis deckM with sable hangings, 
A land unknown. 



The nightingale^ s soft music 

Sounds not above its breast ; 
The flowers of friendship only 
• There fall and rest. 

In vain are tears of anguish , 
And wringings of the hand ; 

The orphan^s wailings reach not 
'That lonely land. 

Yet here alone abideth 

The longed-for rest to come ; 

And through this gloomy portal 
Man sees his home. 

The poor heart, tost and wearied 
With many a storm before. 

Finds rest, when sinking silent 
It beats no more. 

H. S. 



iS6 



rianted l^y Her Excellency the Countess of St. Germans in the Phcenix Park, 
Dublin, January, 1855. 

[1856] 

®i OOR Tree ! a gentle mistress placed thee here, 
W To be the glory of the glade around ; 
Thy life has not survived one fleeting year, 
And she too sleeps beneath another mound. 

But mark what differing terms your fates allow, 
Tho' like the period of your swift decay ; 

Thine are the sapless root and witherM bough; 
'Her^s the green memory and immortal day. 

Carlisle. 



grnabum Dlfrma. 

|/MMATVRA licet tamen hinc non flebilis iuit, 
^ Quae nunc Elysios laeta pererrat agros ; 
At Dryas aequalis, dominam flens sola peremptam^ 
Effluit in lacrimas ipsa soluta suas. 

T. 

EI2 niTTN EnirPAMMA. ^ 

'AXOaiT] MeXedypov o/iiijXiKa BaXov eKrjev, 
d/xcjil KacTLyv/jTcov Krjpl 'x^oXcocra/jLevij • 

X€lp 5' ovK odvela rohe aov, yvvaty eVXe (j)VTevjjLay 
coXcTO 8' ef avTou irevOel Kap(f>6/jLevov. 

T. 

EI.i niTTN EniFPAMMA. 

T/jKETO SvpofjLsvr) dfjbaXrjV 7rlrv<; ijBe (jivrovpyovy 
ft)<? Nio^rj rov kov BaKpV')(iovaa yovov. 

T. 



157 



U^EVIT infaustam pia te propinqui 
Svln decus pagi manus : en ! sepultae 
Vix eras annum dominae fugacem, 
Pine, superstes ; 

Nee tamen, quamuis pariter caduca, 
Sorte gauisura pari ; uietae 
Ramus arescit tibi_, uernat illi 
Fama perennis. 



%^ f mum. 

tRBOR, quam Licini puella seuit 
Sperans te nemoris decus futuram, 
Annus labitur — et procumbis — unus, 
Et sub caespite condita est puella. 
Diuersis tamen, arbor et puella, 
Fatis utimini, licet uolatu 
Pari aduenerit utriusque Parca : 
Sicca stirpe quidem iacesque ramis 
Marcescentibus, arbor ; at puelh 
Luce in Elysia uiret, uirebit. 



, %1i pmm. 

(j,/^ VR sic periris ocius rogas causam ? 
^Nempe ilia quae te seuit, arbor infelix, 
Parum ^ciebat quo modo serenda esses. 

T. 



€lmi &i\i of liUnb. 

SP HERE were thriving tradesmen by Nilus^ bank, 
Gt ^Mid the people that worshippM Isis, 
Who pickled the dead of every rank 

At a varying scale of prices. 
So a man through his family vault might stroll " 
With a little help from his pedigree roll, 

While the torch in the gloom burned dimly ; 
And there he might see the mother he 'd loved, 
The wife he had cherishM, the friend he had proved. 
His father fond^ and his sister dear. 
And his first-born babe on its tiny bier. 

All staring out at him grimly. 

Reader, had you such a catacomb. 

How often, pray, would ) ou leave your home 

To visit a dead relation ? 
How often now, if the question \s fair. 
Do- you turn your steps to the churchyard there. 
Where your loved ones, lost in these last few years. 
Were laid to rest with blessings and tears. 

While the prayer and exhortation 
Were hurriedly read by the parson, who 
Had twenty such funerals more to sfo throu^'-h 

As part of his day's vocation ? 

There are plenty of ways to preserve the dead : 
We may solder tlicm up in sheets of lead, 

Wrap bushels of spice about them ; 
But, whether they last or whether they rot, 
'Tis nuich the same, they are soon forgot, 

And the world gets along without them. 
So 'mid manly weeping and feminine shrieks 
Be this your comfcirt : — ere many weeks 

Have past o'er those who bemoan vou, 
^'oiir love and your friend, your kith and your kin. 
Will laugh and toil, will quarrel and sin. 

As though they had never known you ! 

H. J. Di: B 



159 

3P HE summer dies, and dying leaves 
^ Its glory to the wind and frost ; 

But all its glory is not lost_, 
Nor vainly stored the golden sheaves. 

The, summer dies ; but it has left 
Such sweet remembrance of its reign. 
In ruddy fruit and garnerM grain, 

That scarcely yet we feel bereft. 

And so they died, the great of old. 

But dying left a life behind, 

A mind that ever lives in mind ; 
And death has stampM as current gold 

The thought and phrase of mouth and brain 

Long moulderM into silent dust ; 

Or mock'd upon the marble bust. 
That changes not in joy or pain. 

The summer dies ; and winter^ s breath 
Has chilFd the earth and bared the trees j 
But faith clear-eyed and hopeful sees 

A future life in present death.- 

The summer dies ; the fallen leaf 

Lies smouldering in the lifeless clay ; 
But life shall spring from out decay. 

And hope shall triumph over grief. 

And so they die, the good, the brave ; 

But we will cheer us in our gloom j 

For, like the cypress o^er the tomb. 
The roots of life are in the grave. 

Beneath, corruption feeds her root. 
Above, she spreads her leafy pride. 
And decks her as the sum^mer^s bride. 

While treading death beneath her foot. 

J. s. w. 



i6o 



i^pHAT very time I saw, (but thou couldst not,) 
t^ Flying between the cold moon and the earth, 
Cupid all arm'd ; a certain aim he took 
At a fair vestal throned by the West : 
And loosed his love shaft smartly from his bow, 
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts ; 
But I might see young Cupid^s fiery shaft 
QuenchM in the chaste beams of the watery moon ; 
And the imperial votaress passed on, 
In maiden meditation, fancy-free. 

Shakespeare. 



i, little iofocr tijait tijt ^nfltls. 

HAMLET. 

§T/ HAVE of late, (but wherefore I know not) lost all my 
& mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and, indeed, it goes 
so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth, 
seems to me a steril promontory; this most excellent canopy, 
the air, look you, — this brave overhanging firmament — this majes- 
tical roof fretted with golden fire, — why, it appears no other thing 
to me than a foul and pestilent congre2;ation of vapours. What 
a piece of work is a man ! how noble in reason ! how infinite in 
faculty ! in form and moving, how express and admirable ! in 
action, how like an angel ! in apprehension^ how like a god ! 

Shakespeare, 



i6i 

Ems OTK ANIKHT02. 

ElBov tot' iyo) aot<; 6(j)da\/jLoU 
airep ovk e^v • Trrepvyav f)i7raL<i 
oSbv alOepiav -i/ru^pa? fju'^vrj^; 
yala^ re fjbearjv vio<; erefjuvev 
Kv7rptSo<;, (papirpav koX ro^a ^ipoov ' 
Kovprj Be koXtJ, vrjcrov tlvo<; fj 
Opovov kcTTreplov kol (TKrprTpa vi/jiei, 

TO^OV eTTLO-'XCOV, 

l/jbepov olcTTOv ^piva<; et? aura? 
ox? Sr) rpcoacov puvplov avhpoiv 
7r\rj6o(; cK^rfKev * TTvpiTVOVV he ^eko<i 
TOVTO fcarea^eaav aKrlve<; vypd^; 
dyval fxr}vr}<; • rj h' av /5a<7t\t9 
TrapOevW ael KovSev Xeicrpcov 
KvTrpiBo^ re (l)povov(Ta ^e/SrjKev. 



W. R. 



OTAEN TAP OTTH TATPON n2 ANHP EOT. 
UaXai ttot' ijBr] Trdcrav, ovk elSoi)<; 6 ti, 
repylrtv fxedrJKa, yvfiviKcov B' evoo-c^icra 
Tpifirjv ^wtjOt) ' Bvairovov B' akr]v fJb' dyet 
^povrl^; Totavrrjv cocrre yevvfiL(o<; irayev 
ToBe y6ovo<^ re-^vrj/JLa Bvcrj3aro<f Trpeirec 
(TTepp6<; re TrpopXr)^ ' KOfju^frov depo<; roB' av, 
6pa<^, KaraaKTjvcoiia, kol toB' al6epo<^ 
TjfKavyh dyXdia-fi' — vireprelvov tvttov^ 
Topevfjbdrcov areyaa-jia ')(^pv(roBaiBd\o)v, 
V7rep(j)vh Oavfi' — ov fxev ovv (j)avTd^eTai 
ovBevl rdB[ dWo) ifXrjv ut/jUCOv ofirjyvpei 
fitapa y' ejJLol (tkottovvtl XoL/jicoBeL r dyav. 
nrairal • to (pirv/jb' olov I dvOpwirov \eyco • 
TO t' ev^ve^ yap ttj^; \oyL(TTiK7J<; baov ! 
TO t' evTTOpov ToacovBe fjLr}')(^av7)fidTcov ! 
oaov TO yavpov tov koXov fjLop(pa)fMaTO<;, 
a-e/JLvrji; re ^d(Te(o<; ! ola Balfiovo<; BUr)v 
epBet 0' 6a' epBeL kol voel 6eol<; taov ! 

J. F. D. 



i6: 



% Daigntb-dTonseattb Somut 

To his Friend Master D. E., upon occasion of his enriching him with some 

honey'd posies of his most sweetlie flow'nng Phansie, sendeth his 

lovs Friend and indebted Serv*- 

MfV IKE as an Oistcr, when some secret wound, 
W- Smarting, his tender jelHes doth amate, 
All pretiousncsse the close-shut grief around 

From forth the wealthful ooze will sesfreirate : 
So thou, fair casket of concealed gi:ace, 

Strivest thy pearls, like blusht-for teares, to hide, 
And dark-engulft from bright Apollo^s face 

Dost in thy shell too proudlie close abide. 
But I, a Diver in the unruffled deep 

Where thy shut shell doth covetyse invite, 
Ponder what glorious harvest I shall reap, 

Brincrinjr thv hidden thrcasiu'es to the liffht. 
Dost fear my rude hands^ gnisp, sweet Oister ? Well, 
Give me thy pearls, — He let thee keep thy shell. 

' J^T. 

POEMS WRITTEN IN DISCIPLESHIP.* 

I. OF THE SCHOOL OF MR. BROWNING. 



|fii a Jfunc lligbt. 

■jS EE, the door opens of this alcove, 
vi^Ilere we arc now in the cool night air 
Out of the heat and smother; above 

The stars arc a wonder, alive and fair. 
It is a perfect night, — your hand — 

Down these steps, and wc reach the garden. 
An odorous, dim, enchanted land, 

With the dusk stone-<i;od for only warden. 

* 'I'licse pocnis arc in no sense jiarodics, but intend to be affectionate bludic; 
.ketches in llic uianncr of some hviii'/ masters of soiii:. 



163 



Was I not right to bring you here ? 

We might have seen slip the hours within 
Till God^s new day in the East was clear, 

^Mid the music, the perfume, and the din, 
And each have gone away, the pain 

And longing greatened, not satisfied 
By a hand^s slight touch, or a glance^s gain, — 

And now we are standing side by side ! 

Come to the garden^s end, — not so. 

Not by the grass, it would drench your feet ; 
See, here is a path where the trees o'ergrow. 

And the fireflies flitter; but, my sweet, 
Lean on me now, for one cannot see 

Here where the great leaves lie unfurled 
To take the whole soul and the mystery 

Of a summer night poured out for the world. 

Into the open air once more ! 

Yonder 's the edge of the garden wall, 
Where we may sit and talk, — deplore 

This half-hour lost from so bright a ball. 
Or praise my partner with the eyes 

And the raven hair, or the other one 
With her flaxen curls, and slow replies 

As near asleep in the Tuscan sun. 

Hush ! do you hear on the beaches cirque 

Just below, though the lake is dim> 
How the little ripples do their work. 

Fall and faint on the pebbled rim. 
So they say what they want, and then 

Break at the marge^s feet and die ; 
It is so different with us men. 

Who never can once speak perfectly. 



164 

Yet hear mc^ — trust that it means, indeed, 

Oh, so much more than the words will sav, 
... Or shall it be ^twixt us tw^o agreed 

That all we might spend a night and day 
In striving to put in a word or thought. 

Which were then from ourselves a thing apart. 
Shall be just believed and quite forgot, 

When my heart is felt against your heart. 

Ah, but that will not tell you all; 

How I am yours not thus alone, 
find how your pulses rise and fall, 

And winning you w^holly be your own, 
But yours to be humble, could you grow 

The queen that you are, remote, and proud. 
And I with only a life to throw 

Where the others^ flowers for your feet were slrowed. 

Well, you have faults, too ! I can blame 

If you choose : this hand is not so white 
Or round as a little one that came 

On my shoulder once or twice to-night 
Like a soft, white, dove. Envy her now ! 

And when you talked to that padded thing, 
And I passed you leisurely by, your bow 

Was cold, not a flush or fluttering. 

Such foolish talk ! while that one star still 

Dwells o^er the mountain's margin-line 
Till the dawn takes all ; one may drink one's fill 

Of such quiet; there 's a whisper fine 
In the leaves a-trcmble, and now 'tis dumb. 

We have lived long years, love, you and I, 
And the heart grows faint. Your lips, then : come, — 

It were not so very hard to die. 

E. D. 



1 55 



(^JT" HY sitt'st thou by the shore, 

EmmeUne ? 
Why sportest thou no more, 
EmmeUnc ? 
^Mid those oozy-lobking damsels just emerging from the brine, 
Thy blue eyes on the blue water why so sadly dost incline. 
Looking wistful 
And half tristful, 
Emmeline ? 

One summer morn like this, 

Emmeline, 
Thy heart beat close to his, 
Emmeline ! 
And I rather think he took the liberty to twine 
His arm just for one moment round that slender waist of thine ; 
Oh ! wasn^t it imprudent 
For a penniless law-student, 
Emmeline ? 

He loves you — the poor wretch ! 

Emmeline ; 
But there ^s many a better catch, 
Emmeline. 
Cut him- dead when next you meet him, burn his letters every line. 
And deserve the eligible match your dearest friends assign; 
He is but a poor and true man. 
You a lady (not a woman), 

Emmeline. 

C. P. M. 



A Depositor on the failure of the Continental^Bank. 
Parum locuples continente ripa. 

HOR. 



i66 

S^be Sitilor 530it. 

^WE rose at dawn, and fired with hope 
(&^^Shot c/er the seething harbour bar, 
And reachM the ship and caught the rope, 

And whistled to the morning star. 
And, while he whistled long and loud, 

He heard a fierce mermaiden cry, 
" O boy, tho^ thou art young and proud, 

I see the place where thou wilt lie. 
The sands and yeasty surges rnix 

In caves about the dreary bay. 
And on thy ribs the limpet sticks. 

And in thy heart the scrawl shall play." 
" Fool," he answerM, " death is sure 

To those that stay and those that roam ; 
But I will never more endure 

To sit with empty hands at home. 
My mother clings about my neck, 

My sisters crying ^ Stay for shame !' 
My father raves of death and wreck — 

They are all to blame ! they are all to blame ! 
God lielp me ! save I take my part 

Of danger on the roaring sea, 
A devil rises in my heart. 

Far worse than any death to me." 



Tennyson. 



Calbhiism. 

INSCRIPTION ON THE GATE OF HEAVEN. 

fREE entrance through this gate foi* all 
Whom God so made they could not fall ; 
For ever here in joy they dwell. 
And think upon their friends in Hell. 

INSCRIPTION ON THE GATE OF HELL. 

fITOSE enter here by God^s command, 
Whom God so made they could not stand ; 
For ever here they lie in pain — 
God's will be done ! Amen, amen. J. H. 



i6j 

^VRGIT mane puer — spes scilicet acrior urget — 
<^Spumiferasque secans Ostia linquit aquas ; 
Et iam nauis adest, funem iam dextera prendit, 

Luciferoque suum nauita cantat " Aue/^ 
Carmina dum resonat late clarissima pontus, 

Nereis horrendis uaticinata modis, 
"Ah! miser^'' exclamat, "tibi cor iuuenile superbit. 

At uideo funus qua ferat unda tuum. 
Litora se caueis en ! desolata receptant^ 

Mista ubi feruenti spumat harena sale ; 
Mitulus, heu ! miserum, costis obscaenus inhaeret, 

Illudit cordi squilla proterua tuo." 
Cui puer, "Ah! demens, non euitabile fatum. 

Sine errare mihi seu remanere placet ; 
Dedignor segnes triuisse domesticus horas, 

Otia praetrepidans rumpere pectus auet. 
Haeret in amplexu mater, flentesque sorores, 

' Ire paras/ ululant, ' nee pudor ipse uetat ? ' 
' Naufragus occumbes/ genitor male sanus, ' in undis/ 

Augurat — heu ! peccat, peccat amore domus ! 
Actum est de nobis (sed di prohibete benigni !), 

Ni tentem tumidas aequoris ipse minas ; 
Nescio quid sceleris mea mens malesuada reuoluit, 

Ibimus ! est leuius bisque quaterque mori." 



^ubqiu Suos patxmur Pants. 

DEVS TERGIVERSATOR. 

fALVETE, queis sic crimen intendit reis 
Vt uinceretis tergiuersator deus : 
Summo per aeuum gaudio frui licet, 
Et scire amicis esse damnatis male. 

DEVS PRAEVARICATOR. 

&VC tu facesse, cuius ita causam deus 
(sA Praeuaricator egit ut caderes reus : 

Posthac dolore semper extorquebere. 

Esto : ipse compos iam sui uoti deus. 



M 



i68 
$oiig |.go. 

(from the GERMAN OF HEINE.) 

tY child^ we have been children. 
Two children small and gay ; — 
We crept into the hen-house, 

And hid ourselves under the hay ; 

And, as the folk went by us, 

We cried, '' Ki-ker-e-kuh ! '' 
They thought the cockcrow, real, 

So like the cocks we crew. 

With boxes in our courtyard 

At keeping house we played, — 
We lined our rooms with paper, — 

A right good house they made. 

The old cat from the neighbour's 

Would oft herself invite ; 
We met her with bows and curtsies 

And compliments polite ; 

And anxious friendly interest 

Did in her health evince ; — 
We both have said the same things 

To many an old cat since. 

Often we sat like the old folk. 

And chatted with sapient tongue, 
How everything was better 

In the days when we were young; 

How love and truth and relio;ion 

Had left the world-condoled ; 
How very dear was the coffee, 

How very scarce the gold. 

All this has long rolPd by us, — 

Past arc the games of youth, — 
The gold and the world and the old times, 

And religion and love and truth. 

F. C. W. 



169 

5"pOR beauty's blaze old Greeks may praise 
^ The features of Aglaia ; 
Admire agape the maiden shape 
Consummate in Thalia; 

Last hail in thee^ Euphrosyne, 

Allied those sovran powers 
Of form and face : — no heathen grace 

Had matchM this Grace of ours. 

Blue are her eyes, as tho^ the skies 

Were ever blue above them ; 
And dark their full-fringed canopies, 

As tho' the night fays wove them. 

Two roses kiss to mould her mouth ; 

Her ear 's a lily-blossom ; 
Her blush a,s sunrise in the South ; 

Like drifted snow her bosom. 

Her voice is gay, but soft and low. 

The sweetest of all trebles — 
A silver brook that in its flow 

Chimes over pearly pebbles. 

A happy heart, a temper bright. 

Her radiant smile expresses ; 
And like a wealth of golden light 

Rain down her sunny tresses. 

Life's desert clime, whose sands are Time, 

Would prove a long oasis. 
If 'twere your fate, my friend, to mate 

With such a girl as Grace is." — 

" Do you suppose, if I propose. 

Her heart can still be carried ? " — 
" Had you done so three years ago; 

Perhaps ; — meantime she 's married." 

A. P. G. 



]70 



J^rjttntm qnoqxxt (Srathx |[ara ^st. 

MIRANDA PROSPERO. 

M. ^^H ! my heart bleeds, 

-^To think o^ the teen that I have tiirnM you to, 
Which is from my remembrance !— Please you, farther. 

P. My brother and thy uncle, calFd. Antonio — 
I pray thee, mark me — that a brother should 
Be so perfidious ! — he whom next thyself 
Of all the world I loved, and to him put 
The manage of my state; as at that time 
Through all the signories it was the first. 
And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed 
In dignity, and for the liberal arts 
Without a parallel ; those being all my study, 
The government I cast upon my brother 
And to my state grew stranger, being transported 
And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle — 
Dost thou attend me ? 

M. Sir, most heedfully. 

P. Being once perfected how to grant suits. 

How to deny them, whom to advance and whom 

To trash for over-topping, new created 

'I'hc creatures that were mine, I say, or changed them. 

Or else new formM them ; having both the key 

Of oiFiccr and office set all l)earts i* the state 

To what tune pleased his ear ; that now he was 

The ivy which had hid my princely trunk. 

And suckM my verdure out on't. — Thou attend'st not. 

M. O, good sir, 1 do. 



171 



eNHSKEl AE nlSTIS, BAA2TANEI A' AHISTIA. 

M. Ot/ju' o)? dfjbvao-€L Kaphiav to yH €9 roarjv 
Tpe-^ai (T^ aviav tjt' i/jurjfi a^LO-Tarai 
/jLvrj/jL7]<; ' drap ravrevOev, rjv ^ov\r], (ppdaov. 

n. KaaL^ fJbev dfib^, Oelo^ cbv creOev, kXvcov 

^AvTOdvio^ — TcovS' dvTO/Jiat ae (ppovria-au — 
^e£) Tov KCLCTLV TOd^ efJiirXeKeiv SoXco/jbara ! 
ov fierd ae ifkelcrTov ev ^porcov yeveL '(ftiXovv, 

v7r€p(f>€pov(Tr}<; KOLpdvcov 7rd(Ta<; TroX-ei? 
TOTrjvlx' ' <^^ ^^^ npoalTepcov irpia-^LaTO^; rj 
Twv dp'xekelcov, co? eTfkrjOvov \oyoL, 
Kar' d^iwfjua, KaKTrpeirio-raTO^; iroXv 
evfiovalac^; • koX ralaSe ird<i 7rpp(TKeLp,evo<; 
iraprjfc' dSek(f)G) nravrekr} fjLOvapx'^o.v, 
diro^evoydeU tt)^ ifjurj^; rvpavviho<; 
iv9ovaio)v re T0t9 \d6pa fiaOrjjjuacnv * 
delo^ B' dTTiaro^ ao^—rvepbet^; (opav ri fiov ; — 

M. o)? Br) v€fJbov(7r}(; ev pbohJ av \eyoL<;, Trarep. 

n. eVet rdxt'Crra ttw? t' eSec %peta? iropelv 
dTToarpacj^rivaL t' i^aKpc/SovraL p^aOcov, 
ov xp^ "^^^^ alpeiv ov Be XPl Opiaat to fir] ov 
X^iBdv Trepiaam, Tdfid, (f)rjp.L, OpefMfxaTa 
r^TOi ^veovpyrja' '^ fiedecTTrjaev Tpoirov^ 
rj ' KaLVOiroir)(T^ ' axrirep ovv TrXrj/cTpov XajScov 
dpxV'^ re tov t' dp^ovTo^ einBr^p.ov^ <^peva<^ 
irdaa^ e? olov, mtI avpup^eTpMV, tovov 
QeKoi p,eTeppvdp.c^ev • MaT^ rjBrj Trekeu 
6 Kta-cro^ ovpbov irvOpuev' dpx^'K^ov aTeyo^v 
XXor^v Te Biepdv Ik pocpMv. Xiyco Be ctol 
dTrjp^ikrjTa. 

' M. , Trjp^eXo) fxev ovv, (plXe. 



172 

I pray thee, mark me. 
I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated 
To closeness and the bettering of my mind 
With that which, but by being so retired, 
O'er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother 
Awaked an evil nature ; and my trust. 
Like a good parent, did beget of him 
A falsehood in its contrary as great 
As my trust was ; which had indeed no limit, 
A confidence sans bound. 



Shakespeare. 



^^t passing oi ^xt^nx. 

UT now farewell. I am going a long way 

With these thou seest — if indeed I 00 
(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) — 
To the island valley of Avilion ; 
Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, 
Nor ever, wind blows loudly ; but it lies 
Deep-meadowM, happy, fair with orchard lawns 
And bowery hollows crownM with summer sea. 
Where I will heal me- of my grievous wound." 

So said he ; and the barge with oar and sail 
Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan 
That fluting a wild carol ere her death 
Ruflles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood 
With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere 
Revolving many memories, till the hull 
Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn, 
And on the mere the wailing died away. 

Tennyson, 



-^n 



n. Kol hr] o-' LKVOvfiai rovhe (jypovTi^eLV \6yov. 
e^(opid^(i)v B' ovv iyo) ravOpcoTrcva 
aveiixevo^ re Trdinrav eU olKovpia^ 

^ KOL^ TovirihoaOat Trpo^ aocpcoTepov (f)peva<; 
TOLOLO-S' a Srjra TrXrjv to p^ovoTpoirov Sla 
Tr)v Brj/jLOKpavrov virepe^aXkev a^iav 
i/juS 'v dBe\(j)(p (pavKov i^coXeX (^vcnv 
'Ijryetp', ifjLT] Be 7r/o-Tfc9 cb? k6Svo<; roKev's 
avTov '^ecpvae (nreppba Tovf^irdkiv %f^e9 
yevvaL6T7]TO<; r/)? if^r]^ dvTiCTTaOfiov, 
ri TOO fierpov TraprfKde, irlaTL^ aTrXero?. 



ANHP OT 2TENAKT02. 

" Nvv B' dye, ^at/Qe av fMot TTV/JLarov, UaTp6ic\ei^ lirirev • 
elfiL avv ah 6pda<; SoXt^V oSov—el ereov ye 
(Si^aof^aL, ^9 Kal ifiol Six' opcoperai evOa Kal ev6a 
6vfjio<; dp-VX^vly iceKa\vfiiJLivo<;—k re fiaKalpa^ 
eaTrepl'}]^ vrjGoto vdira^, evd' otre ^aXa^o- 
ovre J to? vL^eTO<; iirLiTLXvaTaL, ovre ttot' 6p.Ppo^, 
ovTe fiho^ Ze^vpoio \ieya irveei, dWd p>dV alel 
Tepwerac rjo-vx^V iSaOvXelfKOV, dyXaofcapiTO^^, 
yovj(d d\(od(ov Xiirapr) (TKiepaiai re ^i^aaai^ 
rd^ 'Tripe ttoi/to? d\o<; fidXa vrji^ep^o^ eare^dvcoTaL, 
evda K6V ft)TefcX^9 Travaco dv/JL0^66pov d\yo<;." 

^? (j^dro • vrjv^ S' dp' eireira hairpvcraovaa KekevOov 
o-ireipoLO-LV XevKok ^Se ^earfj^ ekdrrjcnv 
KdXKiTrev 7]iova<^, ^advKoXTTcp kvkvw ofiojv, ^ 
ri t' dpa irplv daveeiv Xtyvpriv Idx^o-ev doiSrjVy 
Kokbv eiTLirpoxeovaa fJ^eXo^, nr.repvya'^ hoveovaa 
yl,^vxpd<; deaireaia^, tcareSv 6' aXa iroaal Ke\atvoc<;. 
TToWd Se rd pexOivO' opfialvcov ov Kard Oviwv^ 
lararo UdrpoKko^ Brjpov xpoi^ov, elaofcevr) vrjv^ 
arlypLa p,eKav (f^atveaKer' dir' rjeXiov dviovTO^, 
•jravaaTO re arovayv >-t/>ti/7yv virep rjepozaaav. 

W. W. F. 



174 

(after the antique.) 

^jOW shall I deck my ladve fayrc ? — 
^ Buttercup and cowslip; 
How shall I tire her sunny hair ? — 

Buttercup and cowslip; 
All through its mazes pearls Til wind_, 
And tie it in a knot behind. 
And with a silver bodkin bind 

Buttercup and cowslip. 

How shall I deck my ladye bright ? — 

Lillyflower and daisy; 
How shall I prank her bosom white ? — 

Lillyflower and daisy ; 
A ruby cross its snow shall grace^ 
A rose I '11 stick in her boddice-lace, 
-Twill blush, I ween, in such a place — 

Lillyflower and daisy. 

How shall I bind my ladye's vest ? — 

Eglantine and ivy; 
How shall I busk her slender waist ? — 

Eglantine and ivy ; 
I '11 clip it with A girdle blue 
Besprent with gems like stars all through, 
Around my heaven Love's zodiac true — 

Eglantine and ivy. 

How shall I kirtle my ladye bright ? — 

Gillyflower and pansy ; 
How shall her graceful limbs be dight ? — 

(jillyflowcr and pansy; 
In a samite robe of all the dyes 
That paint the rainbow in the skies, 
Loop'd up with gold and silver ties — 

(iiilyflowcr and pansv. 



^75 

What will ye for her eyes and lips ? — . 

Violet and clover ; 
Where nestling Love now laughs, now sips — 

Violet and clover ; 
Her eyes — I ^11 watch their safEre hue. 
And dream of heaven and skies of blue ; 
Her lips— they ^re not for me nor you — 

Violet and clover. 

J. F. W. 

% lean's €n:triug. 

HEN from thy last dear look I turnM mine eyes, 
And fell the darkness, lo ! the mountain grey. 
And in his heart a lustrous crimson lay, 
A light of glory, a beam of subtle dyes. 
Which fondly stayM with him in loving-u^ise 

While from the west the sun had swerved away. 
And, though from wandering waves the moon did rise. 

Still loiterM in his hollows — a lorn day ! 
So mocks^ false peace my heart so soon to pine, 

So tarries dying gladness in my breast. 
Truth, from thy truth and virtue born of thine 
About my soul, a lingering splendour, rest. 
Or e^er the bitter dreams around me twine. 
To gloom the life which thine uprising blest. 

G. F. A. 



mf E who once loves unrequited 
Si^ For a God may pass ; 
Who again loves unrequited. 
Him I deem an ass. 

Thus again in love and slighted ! 

Such a spoon am I ! 
Sun and moon and stars laugh at me ; 

I laugh too, and die ! 

C. P. M. 



176 

'guthjx millhm. 

(from "Alice's adventures in wonderland.") 

<^0U are old^ Father William/^ the young man said, 
.^i)" And your hair has become very white ; 
And yet you incessantly stand on your head — 
Do you think at your age it is right? '^ 

" In my youth/^ Father WilHam replied to his son, 

'^ I fearM it might injure the brain ; 
But now I am perfectly sure I have none — 

Why, I do it again Lnd again." 

" You are old," said the youth, '^ as I mentioned before, 

And have grown most uncommonly fat ; 
Yet you turnM a back-somersault in at the door — 

Pray, what is the reason of that ? " 

" In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks, 

" I kept all my limbs very supple 
By the use of this ointment — one shilling the box — 

Allow me to sell you a couple ? " 

" You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak 

For anything tougher than suet ; 
Yet you finishM the goose, with the bones and the beak — 

Pray, how did you manage to do it ? " 

"In my youth," said his father, " I took to the law, 

And argued each case w^ith my wife; 
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw 

Has lasted the rest of m;^ life." 

" You arc old," said the youth; "one would hardly suppose 

That your eye was as steady as ever ; 
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose- — 

What made you so awfully clever?" 

" 1 have answerM three questions, and that is enough," 

Said his father; " don't give yourself airs ! 
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff? 

Be off, or ril kick you down stairs !" 

Lewis Carroll. 



177 



fialliirus i^Iipies. 

[TE, genitor, senuisse uides/^ (ita filius olim ;) 

"Albent matura tempora canitie : 
Vertice demisso pedibus sublimia captas ? 

Corporibus tardis haec, mihi crede^ nefas/^ 
" Abstinui iuuenis/^ pater inquit, " talibus ausis, 

Ne qua foret cerebro noxia facta meo : 
At genio quis me nunc indulgere uetabit 

Expertum capiti nuper inesse nihil ? ^^ 
" Te senuisse uides^ si fas iterare querellam ; 

Crescunt crura tibi pinguia^ pingue latus ; 
Te tamen inuersos dantem trans limina saltus 

Miror : quae tanti causa furoris erat ? ^' 
Nestoreos agitans crines^ "mihi contigit/^ inquit, 

" Membrorum summa mobilitate frui : 
Hoc ceroma uides ; cessas emere ? unguere ; nummo 

(Sume duos) uno uenditur iste caHx/^ 
" Indoluit, genitor/ quoties gingiua senilis. 

Ipsa nocent tactu mollia larda suo ; 
At, quaeso, anser ubi est ? non ossa neque ora supersunt ; 

O uires raras insolitamque gulam ! " 
Ille sub haec : " Olim causas ego publicus egi, 

Ac reduci paruum fit domus ipsa forum ; 
Qui mihi maxillas his uiribus induit usus, 

Vt senio baud fractus manserit ille uigor." 
" At, pater, annoso nemo iam sanus ocello 

Virtutem priscam credat inesse tuo ; . 
Anguillam tamen banc — opus admirabile — naso. 

Die mihi, librasti qua ratione, pater ? ^^ 
'^ Plura nefas ! tria iam dedimus responsa petenti ; 

Hinc," genitor, " fastus, hinc, puer, aufer,^^ ait : 
'^ Tene diem totum nugas triuisse canentem ! 

I, — pedibus nostris eiiciendus abi!^^ 

H. C. 



.78 



\t ^nbmixon ai potheen. 

(a CELTIC DITTY.) 
Air — " The night before Larry was stretch'd." 

Sj^OU can chatther and talk as you plaze 
^3) Of your claret^, and port^ and champagne^ sir ; 
Och ! they^re all mighty fine in their ways, 
But I care not to tashte them a^ain, sir. 
V\\ tell you, my lads, of a dhrink, — 

The likes of it never was seen, boys, — 
You^ll admire it, I am given to think ; 

^Tis a glass of good Irish potheen, boys, — 
Just the same as' they make in the Wesht ! 

When Saint Pathrick first came to our isle. 

To dhrink why of coorse he was willin'; 
But nothing was there worth his while. 

So he turnM his mind to dishtillin\ 
Faix, the first dhrop he tashted himself, 

Joy lit up his merry ould phiz, sir; 
And says he, " By the powers of delf, 

But there 's something like dhrinking in this, sir !^'- 
So he calls in the boys for a thrate, 

So dhrop in the boys did of coorse, 

But to take a dhrop in they were quicker ; 
For, though haythcns, they knew there was worse 

Than takin^ a dhrop of good liquor. 
So they sat round the saint; and I ^n blest. 

Though they dhrank as long as thc,y wor able, 
The Saint — and more j)owcr to his fist! — 

He dhrank the bastes undher the tabic : — 
"Now," says he, ;' I can dhrink at my aisc." 



179 

Next morn bein' still dhrinkin^ Saint Pat 

The haythens complately amazes,, 
So they sh\vore that by this and by that, 

They'd dhrink till they'd dhrink him to blazes. 
Says one, " By the man in the moon. 

You'll shortly call out for assistance ; " 
Says the Saint, " You be d d,^ you bosthoon. 

Sure the haythens can't dhrink with the Christians !"- 
So he dhrank till he floor'd them again. 

So when they came-to the next day. 

They shortly discover'd their blundher. 
So they came to the Saint, and says they, 

"Why then, musha, plaze your Holiness, would ye 
show us some great miraculous wondher ?" 
So the Saint, bein' plazed, took a quart. 

And he fill'd it up full from the bottle, • 
And he turn'd it — now guess into what — 

Faix, he turn'd it — into his throttle; — 
And delighted the haythens of coorse. 

At my story now don't be surprised : — 

But the haythens, before he departed. 
By the Saint in potheen wor baptized. 

By the Saint and potheen wor convarted. 
So here's to the Pathron of .Dhrink ! 

And if ever he should come this way, then, 
Faix I'm very much given to think 

I'd make a most illigant haythen, — 

Till the Saint would convart me likewise. 

M. H, 

* I.e. disestablished. 



Motto for a Drunkard, 
D. T. fabula narratur, 

HOR. 



i8o 



Si Srt ®mma. 

Sp HERE was a French soldier of noble mien^ who sat his horse 
tS gallantly. He spied two Englishmen, who were also carrying 
themselves boldly. They were both men of great worth, and 
had become companions in arms and fought together, the one 
protecting the other. They bore two long and broad bills, and 
did great mischief to the Normans, killing both horses and men. 
The French soldier looked at them and their bills, and was sore 
alarmed, for he was afraid of losing his good horse, the best 
that he had ; and would willingly have turned to some other quar- 
ter, if it would not have looked like cowardice. He soon how- 
ever recovered his courage, and spurring his horse gave him the 
bridle, and galloped swiftly forward. Fearing the two bills he 
raised his shield, and struck one of. the Englishmen with his 
lance on the breast, so that the iron passed out at his back. At 
the moment that he fell the lance broke, and the Frenchman 
seized the mace that hung at his right side, and struck the other 
Englishman a blow that completely broke his skull. — Holden's 
FoUorum Silvula, No. 998, p. 480. 



§P HERE was an old man from the East, 
tS And he was wondrous wise ; 
He jumpM into a bramble bush. 

And scratchM out both his eyes; 
And, when he saw his eyes were out. 

With all his might and main 
He jumpM into another bush. 

And scratched them in again. 

Gammer Gurton. 



i8i 



nAAAI nOT' HSAN AAKIMOI MIAH2I0I. 

"^fipro h^ 67r6id' '^pco^ ev elS(o<; liriroavvdwv, 

hoLOi) 8^ of u voria^ ^A<yy\a)V Koa/JL7]TOpe Xawv 

Ovvovt' ev 7rpo/jLd')(^ot<;, Kparepo) firjaToope ^o^oto, 

d/jLipd) djJLVveo-OaL SeSarj/jiivo) alirvv oXedpov 

aKKrfkoLV irapa^dvTe Kara Kpareprjv va/iiLvrjv * 

ol B' ^^(ov ev ')(elpeG-cn Bvco ')(CikKr]pee Sovpe, 

/jiaKpQ) Kol aTL^apcb, /jbiya B' e')(^paov vidat FaWcov, 

XinroL's T€ \aol^ re, TroXeo-ai Be Ov/jlov dTrrjvpoyv. 

TOV(; B^ alvo)<^ plyrjae IBcdv FaXXwv dyb^ dvBpcov 

€7%ecrt fiaovofjLevov<;, irept 'yap Bie fi(ovv')(^L ttqjX&j 

09 ol dpL(TT€V€<TKe (j)epeiv Bia ficbXov "Apr}0<?, 

TToXXa 8' eirooTpuve KpaBiT] koX Ovjio^; dyrivwp 

dXXoae ttov arpe'^^ao'dau dva crrparov, dXXa pudX! alvoo'^ 

BelBie [Jbr) ttco? Tt9 ol eXs<y')(eL7]v dvaOeirj 

')(a^o/jLev(p, Odparjo-e t' a^ap koX pLvrjaaro ^ap/XT^? • 

Kevae B^ 6fioKXr}aa<^i el^ev Be lot rjvta TrwXo), 

TMV B' Wv<; p' rjXavve, koX danTiBa iravroa' et(T7]v 

aiev e')(€ eo irpooOe, <^6^o<^ ydp puiv <^peva<; rjpeu 

fjbT) ^XetTo ^vaTol^i '^aXKYjpecnv, iyyvdi B' eXOcbv 

Tov fiev Br] Bopv irp6)Ta Bta oT'^decrcpiv eXaaaev, 

ev KavXat B^ eduyrj BoXt')(pv Bopv rolo 7recr6vT0<^, 

TOV Be (nBrjpelrj Kopvvr) ^^(eBov r} ol dcopro 

Be^crepr) irX'^^ev, Kecj)aXr]<; re avv oare^ apa^ev 

irdvT aiivBi^;. 



HAni O HA02. 
Tepcdv TL^ rjv iroO^ rjXlov 7rpo<; dvToX(ov 
ft)9 Tov^; ^vvovra^ KdiroddvpLaaai ao<p6<; ' 
ir'^Brjfia 'TT7}Br}aa<^ 6B' e? X6^fjL7]v Bi7rXou<i 
KVK\ov(i ^iaL(o<i e^eTpi'^ev o/x/xdrcov • 
6 B\ rjvW eKdafivcadev elcropa KOpMV 
(jyeyyo^y irpovaiTrrj^ ^vvt6voi,<; Bpofjur^fiaat 
X6')(jji7]v €? dXXrjv Bid Td')(ov<; eloijXaro, 
everpL'^e t' ev6v^ o/jufxaT^ av6c<; av irdXiv. 

A. W. S. 



l82 



M4OW sweet the mother-touch of Nature^s hand 
(incomes cool upon the feverish brow of thought. 
When with dimmM eyes and skiggard brain we stand 

Athirst for some lost blessedness, unsought 
Long years — down-trodden in the onward rush 
That sunders us from our child-hearteid selves ; 
And with how glad amaze 
We lave grown limbs where deathless founts outgush 
In the fresh fields of youth, and genial elves 
Lull us with mellower music of old days ! 

New heavens, new earth ; yet with what quiet sense 

Of home long lost ! An afternoon, mayhap, 
We wander forth in sullen impotence. 

Dead, from dead labour — seeking but one scrap 
Of Beauty^s bread of life — more sick for all 

The grimy squalor of suburban things j . 
When from some lucid womb 
Of throned cloud that holds the heavens in thrall. 

Glorious o'er dusty trees, an angel springs, 

Strong-wingM, to snatch us from the dismal tomb. 

And we arise new-born, as now I do, 

CrownM with yon majesty of silver snows 
GatherM and gleaming from the abyss of blue. 

The cloudland with its infinite repose 
Follows me moving, tempted on and on 

By rural glimpses — restful peeps — that yield 
(jlad harvest for sage eye : 
Now 'tis a lane of hedgerow elms, anon 

Stray'd sheep at browse about a pleasant field, 
Or sun-smit poplars quivering in the sky. 



i83 

Subtly the changeful music of my mood 

Deepens to riper perfectness, and fills 
Earth and wide air with heaven. Lingering I brood 

By the shrunk river's bed. Each moment thrills 
With mystery of content, which gently blends 

All in one trance — burnt stubbles bare of sheaves — 
Clear shallows, with their cress 
And glancing minnows — osierM river-beds 

Shimmering in breeze a.id shine ; even yellowing leaves 
Low whisper with suggested happiness. 

Through all his ways boon Autumn seems to smile— 

Oh 1 for the virgin lips of Perdita, 
To name the flowers that on this fairy isle 

Cluster and crowd ! Here chaste angelica 
Queens it, in leaves- superb and tufted crown, 

O'er MichaeFs-daisies ; and the rustling wind 
Stirs, like a rising thought. 
Pure bindweed-bells tangled o'er brambles brown, 

With sad long-purples (by Ophelia twined) 
MirrorM among the lush forget-me-not. 

Once more the supreme splendour of the year ! 

I have invoked thee, Beauty, and my face 
Shines from thine orisons ! No burdock drear 

Shall be my rosary in such sweet place. 
But coral loading of the mountain ash. 

Or haws in bright profusion. Sauntering and slow 
I move with homeward feet, 
Glad with the village children as they splash 
The sand-pools. Shall I find the evening-glow 
Warm on the starry jasmines of our street ? 

J. T. 



Titiens. 
Cui opera uita est." — Ter. 



1 84 

S. 'gumi' Wimbmiiu f ditmir. 

hm H ! hear^ Von Bismarck, hear our cry — 
■^^On Paris turn thy pitying eye — 

We pray thee not to end the strife, 

Nor beg we for one human hfe ; 

We scorn such base, unworthy part, 

And only plead for works of Art. 

When Werder Strasbourg sought to gain. 
In hundreds citizens were slain. 
While houseless starving wife and child 
WanderM among the ruins wild ; 
This we applaud — but wherefore fire 
Upon the great Cathedral spire ? 

Yet worse ! — his guns he dared to p.y 

Upon the noble Library ; 

Thro^ books intended to be read 

(Unlike those here) resistless sped 

A leaden shower, with which ^twere meet 

To sweep some narrow crowded street. 

And now for Paris hear our prayer ; — 
Starve, storm, bombard: — not ours to care — 
But oh ! take heed that shot and shell 
Shall only fall where townsmen dwell ; 
Oh ! take our plaintive cry to heart — 
Spare, Bismarck, spare the works of Art ! 

w. n. s. M. 




i 



w g» 



Crinitg €a\h^t, §nh\m. 



Tlokv^ he Korrd^cDV dpajyfio<; 
. . . d'^el /AeXo9 iv Bofiotcriv. 

Eur. Pleisth, 



TRINITY TERM, 

MDCCCLXXI. 



WILLIAM MCGEE, i8 NASSAU STREET. 

LONDON : BELL AND DALDY. 
1871. 



Dublin: 

printed by porteous and gibbs, 

wicklow street 



R. 


A 




G. 


F. 


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B. 






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D. 




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c. 


W. 



KOTTABIXTAI. 

Richard Atkinson^ Ex-Sch, 
George Francis Armstrong. 
Ralph S. Benson^ Sch. 
Thomas J. B. Brady, Ex-Sch. 
James S. Cluff, Ex-Sch. 
Hastings Crossley,, Sch. 
Maxwell C. Cullinan, Ex-Sch. 
John F. Davies_, Ex-Sch. 
John H. De Burgh. 
Edward Dowden. 
Henry S. Gabbett. 
William Gabbett, Sch. 
Alfred P. Graves, Sch, 
Thomas Maguire, Ex-Sch. 
Townsend Mills, Ex-Sch., Univ. Stud. 
Charles Pelham Mulvany, Ex-Sch. 
Arthur Palmer, F.T.C.D. 
Edward S. Robertson, E^-5'cA. 
Robert Y. Tyrrell, F.T.C.D. 
William G. Tyrrell. 
J. R. West, Sch. 
Freeman C. Wills. 



HEINE. 

tFAR on the distant horizon, 
Like a pageant of evening cloud, 
Its towers half hid in the twilight. 
There lieth a city proud. 

A damp draught of wind doth roughen 
The grey waters where we float ; 

And with a sad time roweth 
The boatman in my boat. 

The sun yet once uplifts him ; 

The heights by his beams are crossM : 
They show me that spot in the distance 

Where I have the loved one lost. 



F. C. W. 



i86 



fWEET daughter of a rough and stormy sire^ 
Hoar Wmter^s blooming child, delightful Spring! 
Whose unshorn locks with leaves 
And swelling buds are crowned ; 

From the green islands of eternal youth 

(CrownM with fresh blooms and ever-springing shade) 

Turn, hither turn thy step, 

O thou, whose powerful voice. 

Mure sweet than softest touch of Doric reed. 
Or Lydian flute, can soothe the madding winds ; 

And thro' the stormy deep 

Breathe thy own tender calm. 

Thee, best-beloved, the virgin train await ' 
With songs and festal rites ; and joy to rove 

Thy blooming wilds among, 
' And vales and dewy lawns. 

With untired feet, and cull thy earliest sweets 
To weave fresh garlands for the glowing brow 
Of him, the favourM youth. 
That prompts their whisperM sigh. 

A. L. Barbauld. 



i87 



fTV seueri progenies patris ! 
O Ver amoenum ! Candida floream 
Te Bruma ridentem decora 
Caesarie genuit. Renides 

Turgens uirentis germine flosculi 
Nouaeque amictu frondis amabili ; 
Siluestris accingit corolla ; 

Vsque nouae comitantur umbrae. 

Te iam uocabo : te iuuet insulis, 
giias Sol iuuentae lumine fulgidus 
Illustrat aeternoj relictis, 
Has rapido petere axe sedes. 

O tu furentes callida carmine 
Mulcere uentos, qua neque Dorica 
Maiore ui callet referre 
Tibia blandisonos canores, 

Stridor procellae turgidus et tibi 
Parebit aestus. Virginei chori 
Te carmen exspectat : iuuabit 
Et uirides peragrare campos 

Non usque fesso et roscida uallium 
Cursu puellas^ et noua plectere 
Virgulta dilecto decoris 

Quamque suo iuueni corollis. 



J. s. c. 



(Done in the Examination Hall.) 



1 88 



fheffe. 



StIZARDS and losels love the sun, 
^d^ Kke poets^ painters, pensive rovers; 
And there^s a deal of business done 

By dozing lazzaroni loafers. 
A lounger in the lands am I, 

Yet not so idle as ye deem ; 
To watch and wink beneath the sky 

Is not, of need, to wink and dream : 

And sitting here in France to-day, 

Lizette, beside the billows blue. 
Full many a promenader gay 

Pve noted, not neglecting you : 
And since so oft you've looked at me. 

On shy coquette devices set. 
That I have failed to grasp the sea. 

And sing it, I will sing Lizette. 

Lizette is twenty-three at least. 

But looks in form and face a child; 
Her roses are with years increast. 

Her smiles more dainty made and mild ; 
Lizette has brows that seldom frown. 

Except if flounces vex her taste ; 
Lizette has hair of golden brown 

That rolls in rings beyond her waist ; 



And eyes of wanton azure grey, 

And lashes long few tears have wet ; 
And teeth that when her laughters play, 

Show clear in perfect order set ; 
And dimpled arms of daisy white. 

And hands of elfin carving frail, 
And elfin tiny feet that light 

The land whereo^er her garments trail. 

A pretty toy, Lizette, a thing 

Full sweet to watch by sun and sea. 
Among the sea-birds on the wing, 

And flower, and wave, and windy tree- 
Lizette in silken raiment clad, 

With hands and arms in gesture fleet, 
And lip alight with laughter glad. 

And glancing eye and moving feet. 

Lizette, I see, is married ; 

Her lord hath fifty years and ten ; 
Too old a lord, Lizette, to wed ! 

And so she yearns for younger men : 
And that^s Lizette^s own babe, I wis, 

The laughing nurse uplifts in play 
Betwixt the greybeard's eyes and his 

That meet Lizette's across the way. 

O, yonder gallant's gay to see. 

And gay, no doubt, in act and speech ; 
And still, you '11 turn from him to me^ 

From me to him, with smile for each ! 
Lizette, Lizette, was this your vow 

At altar made, in ear of priest ? 
Lizette, Lizette, whom love you now ? 

Lives love at all within your breast ? 



^90 

How much for kisses will you dare ? 

Lizette, Lizette, I read you well : 
Lizette, Lizette_, your face is fair_, 

Your heart's a little empty shell ; 
Lizette^ there's poison in your eye^ 

Your smile's a snare but why upbraid you ? 

What sweets your soul could purify. 

Being what France and the Devil have made you ? 

G. F. A. 



^ 



fflto irot^ i^t filtlc iuss iw." 

T lucro quot euunt horas apponit apricas 
Paruola conspicuae sedulitatis apis ; 
Et quam longa dies, longam uaga tendit opellam, 

Mellaque uix patulo flore retecta rapit. 
Ingenio fingit quanto sibi daedala tecta ! 

Ducere fabrili qua sapit arte fauos ! 
Ut sine fine penum parat, et bene cauta parato 

. Parcit, et in medium dulce reponit onus. 
Hanc ego (nam excmplo est) banc, di precor, aemuler; hora 

Sine quod artis opus sine laboris aget. 
Otia crimen amant, dedit in scclus improba Siren 

Dcsidia ignauas et dabit usque manus. 
Rite puer studiis rebusque ego uerser honestis, 

Siuc libri grata scu nice ludus habet. 
Sic moriens "Vixi bene" dixero, '^ nulla mihi lux 

Dcfuit officio festa profesta suo." 

J. R. W. 



191 



jFram Without. 

§p HE lamps so lank and ghastly 
t> Are shivering in the street^ 
And on my face^ more fastly 
Is borne the blinding sleet. 

As shelterless I wander 

Without, in mist and storm. 
The happy fireside yonder 

Is blazing bright and warm. 

And through the fog more faintly 

The casement gleams above. 
With light, more sure and saintly. 

Where rests the one I love. 

The homeless of the city 
. Flit by me as I pass — • 
A changing crowd of faces 
Beneath the shuddering gas. 

The children of the city ! 

The loveless, greedy mart, 
That has no mother's pity 

Within her stony heart. 

The lost ones of the city 1 

O love, a fearful sign ! 
That stainM and trampled beauty 

Has once been pure as thine. 

The children of the city. 

For them w^hom thus I see, 
God grant me deeper pity. 

With purer love for thee. 

C. P. M. 



192 




Srifjur fa (Bmmbm. 

TEST thou here so low, the child of one 
I honour^, happy, dead before thy shame ? 
Well is it that no child is born of thee. 
The children born of thee are sword and fire, 
Red ruin, and the breaking up of laws, 
The craft of kindred, and the godless hosts 
Of heathen swarming o'er the Northern Sea, 
Whom I, while yet Sir Launcelot," my right arm, 
The mightiest of my knights, abode with me. 
Have everywhere about this land of Christ 
In twelve great battles ruining overthrown. 
And knowest thou now from whence I come— from him. 
From waging bitter war with him ; and he. 
That did .not shun to smite me in worse way. 
Had yet that grace of courtesy in him left. 
He spared to lift his hand against the king 
Who made him knight; but many a knight was slain; 
And many more, and all his kith and kin 
Clave to him, and abode in his own land.'" 

Tennyson. 



gxnh §0n0rum (Snu. ^t.) 

IT mulier formosa, crit et sat honesta. Vir, et tu, 
' Si bene nummatus sis, sat honestus eris. 

J. F. D. 



193 



AT2MENE2IN MEN XAPMA. 

KelcraL Brj, rolov reKO<; avipo^, ov irepl Krjpo 
TifjLaov ; rj /juaKap o? Trplv Kardave, Trplv ae IhkaQai 
ivdoB^ ifjioU irapa Trocral KvXLvBo/Jbivrjv Kovifjai. 
a)V7]/jir]v, on a' ovti Oeaav deol fjbrjrepa reKVcov • 
rj aedev iKyeydaao fid')(^aL t' avSpoKTao'lai re, 
^OLvrjeacrd t' Iwkt], epi^ t' dOefjuiG-To^y dcfypTJrcop, 
Kai re Ka(Ji^vr\T(£)V dirdraii rd r' air' ooKeavoLO 
eOve' iirrJTpLfjia el(Tt Oewv ottlv ovk dXeyovre^ 
rjfjuereprjv eVt ya2av, 'TnreplSopeojv 761/09 dvSpcov. 
Tov<; iyo), 6(j)p' eOekeaKe /copvacrecrOao iroXe/jLovBe 
Mr)pc6vrj<; irap' ifiol pukrf dptaTO<; Be^ioaecpof;, 
BcoSeK^ ivl Kparepfjai KvBolfieov vcr/jLtvfjo-L 
d\\v8L<; aXkr] iirl 'xOova rrjv 6e6<^ dfjbcpo/SefirjKev. 
aXXo Be TOL ipeco, &v B^ ivl ^peal ^dXkeo crfjo-L • 
TjXOov iyo) iroXe/jbov TrpokLircov, kol (pvXoirLV aivr}Vy 
dvTi^lrjv KelvM fil^a^ X^^P^^ '^^ pbevo^ re • 
ovB' ifjLOv dvTLO<; rjkOe ' [vefieaarjOr] Toje dv/JbSy 
ov fiiv TOt ve/jb6(rL^€T0 crrjf; iirt^rj/jLevai evvrj<^ •) 
ovvma Tft) TTOT^ eBcoKa fierd Trpofjud^occTL pbd')(ea6aL 
al')QJLrjT7)V t' e/juevai * TroXeeaaL Be 6v/jLov dirrjvpa* 
dXXoo B', ev Be erao koX dveyjriol oaaoi, eirovTOj 
irdpfxeLvav S ev Tefievei ol rjpa (ftepovre';, 
ovB^ dfjb' eaol edeXov iroXefiov fJLera 6(op7}')(drivav. 



M. 



Arguing in a Circle, 
Antiochus, when Popilius drew the ring round him. 



194 



fHYRSIS_, when we parted_, swore 
Ere the spring he would return — 

Ah ! what means yon violet flower^ 
And the bud that decks the thorn ? 

^Twas the lark that upward sprung ! 
Twas the nightingale that sung ! 

Idle notes ! untimely green ! 
Why this unavailing haste ? 

Zephyr winds and skies serene 
Speak not always winter past. 

Cease, my doubts, my fears to move- 
Spare the honour of my love. 



T. Gray. 



W WIDOW bird sat mourning for her love 
^^ Upon a wintry bough ; 
The freezing wind kept on above — 
The freezing stream below. 

There was no leaf upon the trees, 

No flower upon the ground ; 
And little motion in the air^ 

Save of the mill wheel's sound. 

Shelley. 



195 



|p N mea iurabas proficiscens_, perfide_, uerba^ 
©)" Cum primo repetam^ lux mea, uere domum;^^ 
Quid sibi picta uolunt multo uiolaria flore ? 

Quaeque rubum decorant quid sibi, Thyrsi, rosae ? 
Fallor an iUe canor Philomelae percutit aures ? 

Fallor an alta petens spernit alauda solum ? 
Immaturus honor ! non tempestiua querella ! 

Siccine cur uernus praeripiendus honor ? 
Detonuit num bruma, semel- si Juppiter albus, 

Cogitur et Zephyro ponere flante minas ? 
Ah ! nolite metus, nolite mouere timores — 

Viuat amatoris non temerata fides. 

R. S. B. 



tLES hiberno uiduata ramo 
Assidens questus iterabat ;, aura 
Desuper friget ; subeunt niuali 

Flumina lapsu. 

Nil fuit uemi siliiis amictus ; 
Floridi pratis aberant honores ; 
^ Et molae solus loca muta turbat 
Garrulus axis. 



H. a 



ig6 



POEMS WRITTEN IN DISCIP-LESHIP.^ 

II. OF THE SCHOOL OF MR. TENNYSON. 



Srrngs. 



I. 



fHE gloom of the sea-fronting cliffs 
Lay on the water, violet dark, 
The pennon drooped, the sail fell in, 
And slowly moved our bark. 

-A golden day : the summer dreamed 
In heaven, and on the whispering sea, 

Within our hearts the summer dreamed ; 
It was pure bliss to be. 

Then rose the girls with bonnets loosed, 
And shining tresses lightly blown, 

Alice and Adela, and sang 
A song from Mendelssohn. 

O sweet and sad, and wildly -clear. 

Through summer air it sinks and swells. 

Sweet with a measureless desire. 
And sad with all farewells. 



II. 

Down beside the forest stream 

Went at eve my wife and I, 
And my heart, as in a dream. 

Heard the idle melody. 

♦ These poems arc in no sense parodies, but intend' to be affectionate studies 
or sketches in the manner of some of the masters of song. 



197 

'^ Pleasant is this voice/^ I said, 
" Sweet are all the gliding years ; ^' 

But she turnM away her head — 

" Wife_, why fill your eyes with tears ? " 

^' O the years are kind/^ said she, 
^' Dearest heart, I love thee well 3^' • 

But this voice brought back to me 
What I know not how to tell. 

Here I came three springs ago ; 

Ah, my babels sweet heart was gay; 
Still the idle waters flow. 

And it seems but yesterday. 

First that morn he walkM alone, 

LaughM, and caught me by the knee ; 

Though I weep now, O my own. 
Thou art all the world to me. 



III. (later manner.) 

Rain, rain, and sunshine. 

Dashed by winds together. 
All her flowers are tossed and glad 

In the wild June weather. 

Which will she wear in her gown ? 

Drenched rose and jessamine blossom; 
I must stoop if I would smell 

Their freshness at her bosom. 

E. D. 



198 

SL PEAK gently ! it is better far 
St) To rule by love than fear ; 
Speak gently ! let not harsh words mar 
The good we might do here. 

Speak gently to the little child^ 

Its love be sure to gain; 
Lead it to God in accents mild, 

It may not long remain. 

Speak gently to the young, for they 

Will have enough to bear; 
Pass through this life as best they may. 

They ^11 find it full of care, 

Speak gently to the aged one, 

Grieve not the careworn heart; 
His course in life is nearly run. 

Let such in peace depart. 

Speak gently to the erring, — know 

They may have toiled in vain ; 
Perchance unkindness made them so. 

Oh ! win them back again. 

Washington Langford, 



|)r0 antr €m. 

^ IS expectation makes a blessing dear; 
& Heaven were not heaven, if \yc knew what it were. 

Sir J. Suckling. 

fF 'twere not heaven, if we knew what it were, 
'Twould not be heaven to those who now are there. 

Waller. 



199 



EN J' ETnPOXHTOPOUIN EXTI TU XAPI^ ; 

tH ! cohibe linguam, tenet Indulgentia semper 
Aequius imperium nobiliusque Metii ; 
Parce truci linguae^ corrumpere munera noli 

Quae pietas nostris addere nostra queat. 
Mitis amabilibus mentes tibi iunge tenellas 

Vocibus — impubes blanda loquella capit; 
Te monstrante uias sperent attingere caelum. 

Forte breues annos Parca maligna dedit. 
. Alloquio leni iuuenum tu pectora firmes, 

Multa ferenda illos multa ferenda manent ; 
Nam quamuis facili decurrant tramite uitam, • 

Attamen obductis uepribus horret iter. 
Sint sua sint canae solatia blanda senectae, 

Sollicitis curas addere parce uiris ; 
Fabula namque peracta illis ad Plaudite uenit; 

Plaude, neque exagitent aspera uerba senes. 
Si qui peccarint ne corripe, recta petentes 

Inualidos grauius forte fefellit onus ; 
Expulit integros forte inclementia sensus ; 

Blanditiis uictos sit reuocare tuum. 

B. 



rPAMMATISTOT EHIAEI^IS. 

EauXcov ocfyeWeo rrjv X^P''^ '^^ irpo^hoKav * 
ovK av fyap elev, el rt? ev 'yvolr], deoL 

El h^ OVK av elev, el tl<; ev jvolt], deol, 
eXOcov Tt9 69 deov'^y irol ttot^ elV, a^Uero ; 



J. F. D. 



200 



^nk\ in tkxnnm Bdtl 

(from the SANSCRIT OF KALIDASA.)* 

gp HE king yet held his dead love in his arms, 
^ A stringless harp^ the soul within it fled. 

His manhood quivering ^neath the bitter shock. 
In gulping sobs sent forth this weary moan — 

'^ If softest flowers that touch the body kill_, 
All things serve thee for weapons^ envious fate ! 

On me the lightning bolt behoved to fall : 
Thce^ creeping tendril^ it hath struck and riven. 

Why wilt thou now no longer speak to me_, 

Mcj whom thou ne'er wast wont to scorn^ thy love ? 

Our mutual passion quivers in thy limbs. 

But thou, alas ! art dead — too short-lived bliss ! 

Why did I let thee so depart alone ? 
Return ! How can I bear this dreary woe ? 

I cannot yet believe thee dead ; thy curls 

Wind-toss'd, fall round thy face, entwined with flowers. 

Wake, darling, wake ! and drive away this dread. 
Waving thy locks ; why should thy voice be still ? 

* A sudden death by lightning is represented as caused by the falUng of some- 
thing celestial on the person killed. In this case flowers had fallen on the Queen 
from the hands of the heavenly musician Narada. Cf. Tac. Ann. xiv. 12. 
Mulier in concubitu mariti fuhninc cxanimata. 



^ot 



The memories of thy tones^ thy gaze, thy love. 
Are all now left to me — can they console ? 

The flowers we fondly thought would grace thy head, 
Ah, me ! I can but use to crown thy tomb. 

Thy young son^s winsome ways, thy husband^s love. 
Our sympathy, how hadst thou heart to leave ? 

Wife, friend, companion, lover ! sweetest names 1 
Pitiless death hath snatched away my all. 

Gone is my hope, my life — the song hath ceased : 
Joyless the flowers, the feast — all gone! all gone \'' 



As some wild fig-tree^ s roots have torn the ground, 
So sorrow pierced the king, and rove his heart. 



R. A. 



tND what if no trumpet ever be sounded 
To rouse thee up from this rest of thine, 
If the grave be dark, and never around it 
The rays of eternal morning shine ? 

For the rest he giveth, give God the praise ; 

Ye know how often, ye hearts that ache. 
In the restless nights of the listless days 

Ye have longM to slumber, nor wishM to wake. 

H. J. De B. 



302 



"gvixa iintcrcbcntcm Sclcsfitnx g^saitif |p^ire '^atm 

W HERE were three rogues all in one town, 
bi As great rogues as might be — 
The miller, the weaver, and the little tailor. 
They were great rogues all three. 

For the miller he stole meal ; . 

And the weaver he stole yarn ; 
And the little tailor he stole broadcloth. 

To keep the three rogues warm. 

So the miller was drownM in his own mill-dam; 

And the weaver was hangM in the yarn ; 
And the Devil ran away with the little tailor. 

With the broadcloth under his arm. 

Gammer Gurton. 



(from the GERMAN.) 



i^0jUR life is like the flower of Spring 



blossoms — fades — and dies. 
Weep for my love : with all her bloom 

In endless sleep she lies. 
No fitting place received her here. 

No kindly soil below; 
God took her to a better land — 

And there the flower blooms now. 



H. S. G. 



203 



fANS Line ville demeuroient trois coquins, 
Par tout le monde il n' estoit de plus fins, 
Meulnier tissandier et petit tailleur, 
Pareils coquins on re voyoit ailleurs. 

Car ce meulnier voloit farine de ble 

Tissandier du gros fil filoutoit 

Petit tailleur voloit le drap fin 

Pour faire de beaulx habits aulx trois coquins. 

Aussi le meulnier dans son eau se noya-t-il, 
Le tissandier fust pendu dans le gros fil, 
Et le Diable emporta, butin sous bras, 
Le petit tailleur avec son drap. 

E. R. 



Wr T uerni flores oritur sic gloria uitae, 
^{y) Sic nitet, et terram denique fessa petit. 
Flora fuit : desiderio ne ponite finem, 

Perpetuo mortis pressa sopore iacet. 
Hie tenerae uenti gemmae nocuere proterui, 

Informi nocuit torrida terra gelu. 
At nunc ad laetos coeli sublata recessus 

Elysio fruitur Flora recepta suo. 



W. G. 



204 



MA RLY wert thou taken^ Mary, 
Qy In thy fair and glorious prime^ 
Ere the bees had ceased to murmur 
Through the umbrage of the Hme. 

Buds were blowings waters flowing, 
Birds were singing on the tree, 

Everything was bright and glowing 
When the angels came for thee. 

Death has laid aside his terror, 

And he found thee calm and mild. 

Lying in thy robes of whiteness, 
Like a pure and stainless child. 

Hardly had the mountain violet 
Spread its blossoms on the sod. 

When they laid the turf above thee. 
And thy spirit rose to God. 



Aytoun 



Ucrn fitulb Saprcnfror. 

^H ^ ^^^^ ^^^^^ sacred and religious thoughts 
(i^'Of a woman; he that bears so reverend 
A respect to her that he will not touch her. 
But with a kiss'd hand and a timorous heart; 
lie that adores her like his goddess- 
Let him be sure she'll shun'him like her slave. 



Chapman. 



205 



OTK E0ANE2, nPHTH, MEtEBH2 a' E2 AMEINONA 
XnPON. 

"A(opo^, 0) TTol (pikTarr], av 7' €<p6L(T0, 
OaXKova' aKfiaiav KaWovrjf; vea<; %«jOt^', 
Xij'yovTO^ Tjpo^, rjviKa ^ovdo7rT6po<; 
fiiXiao-' e^6/jb^6L (ptXvpLvrjp ava aKidv, 
Xecfjicov tot' r]v9ei, 'Xa/JbTre Kpr]va2ov peoq, 
6pvcde<; vjjbvovv r^pbevoL KKdhov<^ fxekr], 
iyeka TrpocrcoTTov yrj^ rydvei OeoahoTco, 
iropbiram 'Epp^i)^ w? a' 6Kov(pi^ev %e/3t. 
ov GO I y' eirrjXOe heivov eKirvewv p^ivo^ 
6dvaT0<^, ere S' ovBev iiTTOTjp.evrjv, TeKVOV, 
Xeu/cot? 6(p€vpev iv ireifkoL^, dyvov Kapa, 
KaKO)v d'yevcTTOV vrjiriov /Specpov^i Slktjv. 
toiG-L Sr) tot' rjptvol^ cjpa via 
^rjaaa^ opelm dpTL(o<; eTrrjvOta-e, 
TO (Tov t' iKpv(f)9r) (Tcop^a p^ev X^^'^^ Td(j)(p 
ylrv^V ^' dirrjkde %<wpoi^ eh dp^elvova. 



IpEMINA si qua uiro res inuiolata uidetur 
S3 Et sacra, quam penitus mente animoque colat ; 
Qua uisa, dextrae uix audeat oscula ferre, 
, Dum ueniam trepidans ima per ossa petit ; 
Quo magis ille deam ueneratur, eo magis ilia 
Vsque fugit, mores osa trifurciferos, 

J. F. D. 



206 



^ HERE'S a grave on a headland high, 
& Rifted in the rude Hmestone; 
Wail the night winds sweeping by. 

And the waters make their moan ; 
But thy rocky bed is deep. 
Wind nor waters break thy sleep. 

Oft shall storms with gather^ roar 
Wild and wintry scour the bay. 

Rouse its waves, and o'er the moor 
Fling afar their crests of spray. 

Ruder summons must it be. 

That from slumbers waketh thee. 

There is no kind hand that daily 
Offerings to thy grave shall bring, 

Deck it sadly, deck it gaily. 
With a garland rife of spring. 

Can the roses' ruddy beam 

Pierce to cheer thy darksome dream. 



W HE Emperor to Queen Augusta — 
b2The French have got another buster; 

A thousand souls have gone below ; 

Praise God from whom all blessings flow. 



207 



fST tumulus celsum qua currit in aequora litus, 
In tumuli molem scinditur atra silex : 
Nocte ubi transuolitant tristis suspiria venti, 

Plangit et implacidi longa querella maris. 
Ast ahum faciunt lectum tibi saxa ; sopores 

Non mare non uentus solicitare potest. 
Saepe per hibernos tractus equitabit aquarum 

Vndique collectis saeua procella minis 
Exstimulans undas ; undarum aspergine salsa 

Plurima per terras spumea crista tremet. 
Saeuiat ur)da licet; sed non nisi saeuior istos 

Ah poterit somnos eripuisse fragor. 
Non pia neglecto solemnia munera busto 

Quotquot eunt soles adferet ulla manus. 
Non uer halantes decorabunt ossa coronae 

(O hilari specie triste ministerium !) 
Num iubar ad manes roseum^ tua somnia caeca 
Oblectaturum, num penetrare ualet ? 



^EX pius optatae tibi do, regina, salutem, 
(^Gens inimica mihi Gallica rursus habet; 
Mille hodie intVarunt infernas funera leges, 
Laudetur tanti fons et origo boni. 

W. G. T. 



208 



® ON old house in moonlight sleeping, 
§i)Once it held a lady fair, 
Long ago she left it weeping, 

Still the old house standeth there — 
That old pauper house unmeet for the pleasant village street. 

With its eyeless window sockets, 

And its courts all grass overgrown. 
And the weeds above its doorway 

Where the flowers are carved in stone. 
And its chimneys lank and high like gaunt tombstones on the 
sky. 

RuinM, past all care and trouble. 

Like the heir of some old race 
Whose past glories but redouble 

Present ruin and disgrace. 
For whom none are left that bear hope or sorrow anywhere. 

Lost old house ! and I was happy 

^Neath thy shade one summer night. 
When on one that walkM beside me 
Gazed I by the lingering light. 
In the depths of her dark eyes searching for my destinies. 

There within our quiet garden 
Fell that last of happy eves 
Through the gold of the laburnum 
And the thickening lilac leaves j 
There the winter winds are now sighing round each leafless 
bough. 



209 



Haunted house ! and do they whispei 

That the wintry moon-rays show, 
Glancing through thy halls, a ghastly 
Phantasy of long ago, 
And thy windows shining bright with a spectral gala light ? 

Vain and idle superstition ! 

Thee no spectral rays illume; 
But one shape of gentlest beauty 
I can conjure from thy gloom, 
In whose sad eyes I can see ghosts that haunt my memory. 

C. P. M. 



Quotation from a speech of , M.P., reported hy the goddess 

Fame to the Irish Nation, 
O fortunatos nimium, sua si bona norint ! 
Answer hy the goddess Echo from the Irish mountains. 
No rint ! 

R. A. 



m m f r^B ! 



IP^AVETE Unguis ! Gratias agit uictor j 
^ lam nuntiantur quinque mille concisi 
lacere Galli, uixdum humata turba/' At uos, 
Fauete dentibus, lupi ! Est leuis terra. 

H. C. 



ZLO 




(the fireworshippers.) 

^^ HAT ! while our arms can wield these blades, 

'-^ Shall we die tamely ? Die alone 
Without one victim to our shades, 
One Moslem heart, where, buried deep 
The sabre from its toil may sleep ? 
No. God of Iran^s burning skies, 
Thou scorn'st th' inglorious sacrifice. 
No, though of all earth's hopes bereft, 
Life, swords, and vengeance still are left. 
We'll make yon valley's reeking caves 
Live in the awe-struck minds of men 
Till tyrants shudder, when their slaves 
Tell of the Gheber's bloody glen. 
Follow, brave hearts ! This pile remains. 
Our refuge still from life and chains; 
But his the best, the holiest bed. 
Who sinks entomb'd in Moslem dead.'' 

Thomas Moore. 



St itnj as on Moimn. 

^ HEN lovely woman stoops to folly. 
And finds too late that men betray, 
What charm can soothe her melancholy. 
What art can wash her guilt away ? 

The only art her guilt to cover. 
To hide her shame from every eye. 

To give repentance to her lover. 
And wring his bosom, is — to die. 



Goldsmith, 



211 



ABA'S BANEIN. 

fRACCHIA num languent? Num sic moriemur inulti, 
Victima nee nostris ferietur Manibiis ulla^ 
Sanguine quo uili fessus requieuerit ensis ? 
Hoc— pro— flammantis Sol lustrans ardua caeli 
Respuis indignum. Viuendi sordeat omnis 
Caussa, sed armatis uita et uindicta supersunt. 
Hanc facite ut uallem tepidasque cruore cauernas ^ 
Religione sua per pallida saecla nefandas 
Laetantes cantent semi trepidentque tyrrani ! 
Festinate mori mecum, fortissuma corda ! 
Vitam seruitiumque dabit fugisse supremus 
Ignis et iste rogus. Quamquam O latuisse iuuaret 
Strage sub hostili; uirtus sic obruta gaudet. 

T. M. 



||;0rs Ultima f hxca "gtxnm. 

, A VAE, uirgo, in facilem male declinaris amorem, 
c^ Heu proditorem senties 

Serius esse procum ; 
Quis poterit tantos Orpheus mulcere dolores ? 
Quis crimen admissum ualet 
Eluere arte magus ? 

Tu si quaesieriS;, quae sit uia sola medendi, 
Ne plebe monstratae genis 
Conscia fax rubeat ; 
Quo leue cor luctus, quo uiuus distrahat anger, 
I, uirgo, mortis i uiam — 
Mors tua sola salus. 



A. P. G. 



212 



fm -csto, bbit; lu^ fait alma Cljaas. 

("FROM Greenland's icy mountains.") 

^ STA pminoso Thules iuga qua rigent Trione, 
(^ Coralliuinque plangit aequor Induin ; 
Afros qua propior sol lustrat^ et aureae fluentes 

Voluunt scatebrae coiicolorem arenam ; 
Multus ubi rapido fertur pede fabulosus amnis, 

Cainpusque latam pahnifer dat-umbram, 
^'Soluite^^ conclamant gentes ''^ iuga^ soluite efFeratis 

Quas Error oris iniicit catenas/^ 
Quidj per lauaeos opobalsama leniter Fauoni 

Si spiral ala suaueoleiis recessus ? 
Rideat omnis ager, nil gens nisi sordeat uirorum 

Heu ! ilia dispar ruribus serenis ! 
Frustra^ Diue, manu tua munera prodiga profundis, 

Si saxa gentes stipitesque adorant ! 

T. 




E0Tf ABOi. 



Cnttitg College, §uHin. 



. . . a^et /xeXo? eV Bo/jloktiv. 

Eur. Pleisth, 



MICHAELMAS TERM, 



MDCCCLXXI. 



WILLIAM MCGEE, i8 NASSAU STREET. 

LONDON : BELL AND DALDY. 

1871. 



DUBLIN: 
Y PORTEOUS AND G 
ICKLOVA/ STREET. 



KOTTABIIITAI. 



A. 




R. 


A. 


W 


. R. B. 


C. 




J. 


F. D. 


J- 


H. De B. . 


J- 


G. 


J- 


H. 


H 


M. H. . 


C. 


P. M. 


P. 


S. P. 


W 


\ R. 


J. 


T. S. 


J. 


F. T, 


J. 


T. 


T. 





Samuel Allen. 

Robert Atkinson, Ex-Sch. 

W. R. Barry, Sch. 

Max. Cullinan, Ex-Sch. 

John F. Davies, Ex-Sch, 

John H. De Burgh. 

J. Galvan, Ex-Sch. 

J. Henry, Ex-Sch. 

Henry M. Hewitt^ Sch. 

Charles Pelham Mulvany, Ex-Sch. 

Percy S. Payne. 

William Roberts^ F.T.C.D. 

J. J. Sylvester, F.R.S.^ &c, 

John F. Townsend, LL.D. 

J. Todhunter. 

Robert Y. Tyrrell, F.T.C.D. 




t Wxi^Kxti^iUXL 



(from beranger.) 

^OLDIERS ! here 's your Vivandi^re, 
iSShe that sells the cure for care; 
And where ^s the soldier knows not Kate, 
Her bright black eyes^ her saucy gait ? 
They love me all, or so they swear. 
^Twas in the deserts, at fourteen, 
I joinM them with a full canteen. 

Ah, my comrades ! great and small, 

Dearly have I loved you all 

Through those brave old days of mine — 

Days of glory, love, and wine; 

Since, how many a funeral 

With streaming eyes has seen me come 

Marching to the mulBed drum ! 



Through the smoke and through the roar 

FollowM I the tricolor. 

When the long victorious day 

TurnM to evening, oft you M say, 

'^ Kate, my darling, verre a Loire." 

Off you M toss it, off you M go, 

Fit for facing any foe. 



214 

One fine day wc came to Rome ; 
Katey there was quite at home ; 
My lover, such a handsome man ! 
He was the Pope^s own sacristan, 
Dwelling hard by Peter^s dome : 
A week beside the Tiber there 
Gaily lived the Vivandiere. 

Then when Victory jilted France, 
When to numbers and to chance. 
Baffled we were forced to yield — 
Ah ! could / have ta'en the field ! 
I M have made the English .dance — 
I M have let the red coats see 
MurderM Joan alive in me ! 

Oft a soldier, poor and old. 

Weak with wounds and wan with cold. 

Eyes my little keg askance — 

Come, you ^re welcome ! drink to France 

Time there was you paid me gold ; 

When those good times come again. 

Comrade ! you shall pay me then ! 

Though our heayens murky be, 
Wait awhile, and you shall see 
Victory^s sun once more arise 
Gloriously in cloudless skies. 
And, my lads, be sure that he 
Shall find me, whensoe'er he come, 
Beatino; the reveillee-drum ! 



1. J. Die B. 



315 

Mnta ®Ijis fast. 

(from HEINE.) 

tY heart is ail opprest, and yearning 
I muse upon the days gone by ; 
The world was still fit to sojourn in, 
And people jogg'd on quietly. 

But now all 's topsy-turvy driven, 
There is the woe, the drearyhead ! 

Dead is the Lord God up in heaven, 
And down below the DeviPs dead. 

All seems so sullen and complaining. 
So muddled-up and damp and cold. 

But for the scrap of Love remaining 
One's life were nowhere left a hold. 



J. T. 



(hor. carm. III. 30.) 
® MONUMENT more durable than brass, 
^Loftier than pile of regal pyramid 
That nor corrosive rain nor furious blast. 
Nor the innumerable linkM chain of years. 
Nor flight of seasons can subvert,— I Ve raised. 
I shall not all expire, but in good part 
Shall Libitina 'scape and freshly bloom 
In praise succeeding praise, long as the priest 
With vestal mate still climbs the Capitol. 
Where roars mad-rushing Aufidus, and where 
Scant-waterM Daunus ruled the rustic tribes, 
I shall be hailM— from lowly raised to might— 
Of mortals first to have swept th' Aeolian lyre 
To Latin numbers. Take on thee proud state 
E^rnM bv desert, and of thy grace surround 
With Delphic bavs my brows, Melpomene ! 

J. J. s. 



2l6 



^ HE deep vexation of his inward soul 
bi Hath served a dumb arrest upon his tongue ; 
Who, mad that sorrow should his use controul, 
Or keep him from heart-easing words so long, 
Begins to talk ; but through his lips do throng 

Weak words, so thick come in his poor hearths aid, 
That no man could distinguish what he said. 

Yet sometime Targuin was pronounced plain. 
But through his teeth, as if the name he tore. 
This windy tempest, till it blow up rain. 
Held back his sorrow^s tide to make it more ; 
At last it rains, and busy winds give o^er : 
The son and father weep with equal strife. 
Who should weep most for daughter or for wife. 

The one doth call her his, the other his. 
Yet neither may possess the claim they lay ; 
The father says, "She^s mine ; '^ " O, mine she is,'' 
Replies her husband ; ^' do not take away 
My sorrow's interest. Let no mourner say 
He weeps for her, for she was only mine. 
And only must be waiPd by Collatine." 

Shakespeare. 



KAKOT KAKION AAAO. 



ICKNESS takes but your life; the doctor, worse 
Than any sickness, takes both life and })urse. 

J. H. 



217 



Kat 8^ TrXdvrjfjba KavaKiv7]cn^ (fypevMV 
a^cov' e<T(o6ev K\fj6pa rf} 7X0x70-77 '(3a\ev, 
fj Kcupr' d9vfio^, el Xoycov iravaTrjpio^; 
TMV KOV(f>i'OVVTcov KapSlav earai out;, 
prjjvvcn ^(ov7)V ' aXka %etX6C02^ 8 to. 
ovTco ye iroWa fivplot^ yripvixaTa 
Xoyotf; iirapyifjiotaL avfifMaxel (ppeorlvy 
0(t6' ola (J}7](tIv oi)TL<; av Kplvoi (TKe6pM<i ' 
aa^k ye fir]v TapKivov eaO' or' eKkeyec 
aW e'l 6S6vT(ov, Tovvofi' ivBarovfxevo^; ' 
Tv4>co 8' arjfidr', ear' dv ofi(3pov mirver}, 
XvTTTj^ KarelpyeL, Svaxi^fiov irXrjfifivplSa 
av^ovra, koI reXo^ Karaiyl^et jSpofio) 
XdXa^' iirtppd^ao-a, Xrjyovo-r]^; irvor)<^. 
ixaxv irdTTjp re Trat? t' laoppoTTcp Tore 
700)1/ ipL^ova' ocTTt? e? irpoo-coTard 
6 jxev yvvaiKh 8e /copf]? r](Tei arovov. 
6 fiev yap avTOV viv Kokcbv 6 8' avr' Um 
avTOv VLV, ov rrjv Krrjcrov OLKelav e%6t. 
" ifjLOV yap earcv/' el^' 6 (jarvaa^ iraTT^p. 
" e^jLov iJbev oW tot' dvrafiel/SeraL iroaL^, 
** aXV eta, /jl7]tl^ rovfiov dpTraXt^erco 
Xuttt)?, rpoTTOi^ S' ov irevdlfioi^; dXXov XP^cov 
KeiV7]<^ haKpveiv, fcal yap rjv ifiov fiovov, 
Kdyo) BiKaio^ elfjui BaKpveLV fiovo^J' 



c. 



(Done in the Examination Hall.) 



EnirPAMMA EniTTMBION. 



ETke voao'^ Kev Xcrm to ^tjv ' rrjv 8' e(j)6aa' Irjrpcx;, 
09 fi' d^eXev to ^rjv 178' oye Tapyvpiov. 

T. F. D, 



■■ 



2l8 

Cfre Mttttntrcc. 

^LLAH is great, my children, and kind to a slave like me, 
•^x:sAnd the Sahib's tent is gone from under the wild fig tree, 
With his horde of hungry catch-polls and oily sons of the quill, 
Pve paid them the bribe they askM for, and Satan may settle 

the bill ! 
It's not that I care for money, nor expect a dog to be clean; 
And if I were lord of the peasants, they'd starve ere I grew 

lean. 
But Vd sooner be robb'd by a strong man that shew'd me a 

yard of steel, 
Than be fleeced by a sneaking scrivener, with a bailiff and writ 

at his heel. 

There goes my lord the Faringhee, who talks so civil and bland — 
But raves like a soul in Gehenna if I don't quite understand. 
He begins by calling me "Sahib," and ends by calling me 

"fool;" 
He has taken my old sword from me — and tells me to set up 

a school. 
" Set up a school in the village; and my wishes are," says he, 
" That you '11 make the boys learn their lessons, or ym '11 get 

a lesson from me." 
Well, Ram Lall the chandler mocks me ; he pounded my cow 

last rains, 
He 's got three greasy young urchins ; I '11 see that tJici/ take 

pains. 
Then comes the Settlement Officer, teaching to plough and to 

weed, 
I 've sow'd the cotton he gave me — but first I boil'd the seed. 
He likes us humble farmers, and talks so gracious and wise. 
As he asks of our manners and customs, and I answer him not 

but with lies. 

" Look," savs the School Inspector, "what a silly old man you 

be, 
You can't read, nor write, nor ciplicr, and \our grandsons do 

all three : 



219 

They'W check the brokers^ figures, and reckon the tenants^ corn, 
And read good books about London, and the world before you 

were born/^ 
Well, I may be old and foolish, for I have seventy years well 

told. 
And the British have ruled me for forty, and my hands and heart 

grow cold. 
Good boys they are, my grandsons, I know, but they 'W never 

be men, i i r u 

Such as I was at twenty-five, when the sword was lord ot the 

pen. 
I rode a Dakhni charger, with a saddle-cloth gold-laced, 
And a twelve-foot spear, and a Persian sword, and a pistol at 

my waist. 
My son keeps a little pony, and I grin to see him astride, 
A-jogging away to the court-house, and swaying from side to 

side. 
My father was an Afghan, and came from Kandahar; 
He rode with the gallant Ameer Khan in the old Mahratta war. 
From Sulaiman to the Vindhya, five hundred of one clan, 
They askM no leave of lord or king, but swept o^er Hindustan. 
My mother was a Brahmani, but she held to my father well. 
She was saved at the sack of Jaleshwar, where a thousand 

Hindus fell ; 
Her kinsfolk died in the sally-but she followM where he went. 
And dwelt, like a bold Pathani, in the shade of the riders^ tent. 
'Tis many a year gone by now, but still I often dream 
Of a long dark march to the Jumna, and splashing across the 

stream; . 

With the waning moon on the waters, and the spears mthe dim 

star light, 
As I rode in front of my mother, and wonderM at all the sight. 
But the British chased Ameer Khan, and the roving days must 

cease ; 
My father got this village, and tillM his lands m peace. 
But I was young and hot of blood, and the life was not for me. 
So I took to the hills of Malwa, and became a Pindaree. 



220 



Praise to the Name Almighty ! there is no God but One, 

And Muhammad is His Prophet, and His Will shall ever be 

done. 
Thou shalt take no use for money, nor thy faith for lucre 'sell ; 
Thou shalt make no terms with the Kafir, but smite his soul to 

hell. 
Tell me, ye men of Islam, that are dwelling in'slavish ease. 
That wrangle before the Faringhi for a poor man's last rupees- 
Are ye better than were your fathers, that plundered with old 

Cheetoo, 
And squeezed the greasy traders, as the traders now squeeze 

you? 
Down yonder lives a usurer, my father gctve him a bill, 
Pve paid the knave thrice over, and yet Pm paying him still. 
He shews me a long stamped paper, and must have my lands — 

must he ? 
If I were twenty years younger he should get just six feet by 

three ; 
And if I were forty years younger, and my life before me to 

choose, 
I would'nt be bullied by Kafirs, or swindled by fat Hindoos ; 
But Pd go some distant country, where Musalmans still are men. 
Or Pd take to the forest like Cheetoo, and die in the tiger's den ! 

n. 



(from beranger.) 

HAT, heedless of your springtide gay, 
You speak to me of tender fears — 
To me ! whose youth is giving way 

Beneath the weight of forty years, 
Love once could make my bosom glow — 

'Twould kindle for a poor griscttc ! 
Ah ! would that I could love you now 
As, long ago, I loved Rosette! 



221 



In glittering equipage, each day 

You shine among the brilliant throng; 
Rosette, all smiling, fresh and gay, 

TrippM lightsomely on foot along. 
How flashM on her each daring eye — 

My jealous pains I think of yet; 
I cannot love you tenderly 

As, long ago, I loved Rosette 1 

To your boudoir, with satin deckM, 

In rich attire as on you pass, 
The mirror'd walls your smiles reflect; 

Rosette had one poor looking-glass I 
No curtains fenced her pallet low, 

Morn^s rosy blush her glances met; 
Alas ! I cannot love you now 

As, long ago, I loved Rosette 1 

Your wit is bright, and many a youth 

Deems lyric compliments your meed ; 
I do not blush to tell the truth — 

My poor Rosette could scarcely read ! 
But, though her tongue was rather slow. 

Love could her words interpret yet ; 
Alas ! I cannot love you now 

As, long ago, I loved Rosette ! 

She had not charms like yours, in truth, 

Her heart less tender was, perchance ; 
A lover's pains she could not soothe 

With such a fascinating glance. 
What spell enslaved me, will you know ? 

'Twas youth, which vainly I regret ; 
Ah ! would that I could love you now 

As, long ago, I loved Rosette ! 



J. F. T. 



222 



^7 



dVl/ E watch'd her breathing through the ninhtj 



Her breathing soft and slow ; 
As in her breast the wave of Hfe 
Kept heaving to and fro. 

So silently we seemM to speak, 

So slowly moved about. 
As we had lent her half our powers 

To eke her living out. 

Our very hopes belied our fears, 
Our fears our hopes belied; 

We thought her dying when she slept, 
And sleeping when she died. 

For when the morn came, dim and sad. 
And chill with early showers, 

Her quiet eyelids closed — she had 
Another, morn than ours. 



Hood. 



(from T^E GERMAN OF HEINE.) 

W\ you ask back the shade your leaves have given, 
QjD O Tree, from yon fierce sky ? 

Dost wail, O Wind, that faint flowers are driven 
And trampled by ? 

Wail on ! To me there comes, with fateful power, 

A darker day ; 
A sweeter sunniier breath, a fairer flower, 

It bears away. 

C. P. M. 



223 

Pors laixua 0itae» 

^ItENTE noctis ibant horae, 
^Spiritus trahebat ore 

Lentos aegra debili ; 
Dum sub pectore iacentis 
It reditque refluentis 

Vita more pelagi. 

Quam submissa loquebamur 
Voce, siue mouebamur, 

Pedibus quam tacitis ! 
Dixeris suppeditasse 
Nos ferentes opem lassae 

Nostri partem roboris. 

Tum formidines in mentes 
Spes refellit ingruentes, 

Spemque mox formidines ; 
Visa, quum dormiret, mori, 
Visa similis sopori. 

Mortis ipsa requies. 

Lux est crastina renata 
Matutino contristata 

Imbre, foeda nebulis ; 
Leniter ocellos claudit — 
lamque non terrena gaudet 

Luce, sine tenebris. 



f'^'^RNE, truci caelo frondes spoliata requiris ? 
Fles pede calcatas, Eure, iacere rosas ? 
Fleueris : at misero uenit mihi tristior hora ; 
Flos mihi candidior, dulcior aura, perit, 

A 



224 



J© UT who was he that in the garden snared 
@? Pious and Faunus^ rustic gods ? a tale 
To laugh at — more to laugh at in myself — 
For look ! what is it ? — there ? Yon arbutus 
Totters ; a noiseless riot underneath 
Strikes through the wood_, sets all the tops quivering- 
The mountain quickens into Nymph and Faun ; 
And here an Oread — how the sun delights 
To glance and shift about her slippery sides, 
And rosy knees, and supple roundedness, 
And budded bosom peaks — who this way runs 
Before the rest. A satyr, a satyr, see, 
Follows; but him T proved impossible; 
Twy-natured is no nature ; yet he draws 
Nearer and nearer, and I scan him now 
Beastlier than any phantom of his kind 
That ever butted his rough brother-brute 
For lust, or lusty blood, or provender : 
I hate, abhor, spit, sicken at him ; and she 
Loathes him as well ; such a precipitate heel, 
Fledged as it were with Mercury's ankle-wing, 
Whirls her to me ; but will she fling herself 
Shameless upon me ? Catch her, goat-foot ; nay, 
Hide, hide them, million-myrtled wilderness 
And cavern-shadowing laurels, hide ! Do I wish — 
What ? — that the bush were leafless ? or to whelm 
All of them in one massacre? O ye gods, 
I know you careless, yet, behold, to you 
From childly wont and ancient use I call — 
I thought I lived securely as yourselves — 



225 



'^^VIS porro fuit ille, dolos meditatus in horto, 
^ Qui Picum Faunumque, agrestia numina, uinxit ? 
(Res ridenda satis, mage sum ridendus at ipse.) 
Aspice enim, quid id est ? Vidistine ? Arbutus ilia 
Hue illuc nutat; iamque infra murniure surdo 
Lucus miscetur, tremefitque cacumine in omni — 
Monsque adeo Nymphas Faunosque in luminis oras 
Viuidusen! effert ; iamque hac accurrit Oreas — 
Aspice ! quam gaudent per molles ludere costas, 
Et cito mutato soles contingere motu, 
Purpureumque genu, teretisque uolumina formae 
Et geminos colles, teneras in pectore mammas ! 
Ilia quidem comites pedibus uelocibus anteit, 
En ! Satyrus, Satyrus, fugientis passibus instat; 
Quem tamen baud unquam monstraui existere posse, 
Nulla cluet quoniam duplex natura animantum ; 
At cursu propius propiusque accedere pergit, 
Et iam contemplor ; uisu teterrimus ille 
E genere hirsuto, nee quisquam tempore in ullo 
Turpior in toruum direxit cornua fratrem, 
Venter ubi, aut calidus sanguis, pepulitue libido : 
Odi, detestor, sputo, fastidio — et ilia. 
Ilia horret portentum ; ita uelox planta puellam 
Maiugenae pinnata uelut talaribus aureis 
Ad me praecipitat : mihi num temeraria sese 
Iniiciet ? Capripes, quin prendis ? Condite, quaeso, 
Ilium, illam, innumeris uos tesqua O consita myrtis, 
Antraque obumbrantes laurus ! quid auemus in illis ? 
Num foliis dumum nudare, an caede sub una 
Percutere occisos omnis ? O ! Numina Diuom — 
Noui ego uos nostri seiunctos uiuere cura, 

Sed posco puerili ex usu et more uetusto 

a 



226 

No lewdness, narrowing envv, monkey-spite, 
No madness of ambition, avarice, none ; 
No larger feast than under plane or pine. 
With neighbours laid along the grass, to take 
Only such citps as left us friendly warm, 
Affirming each his own philosophy — 
Nothing to mar the sober majesties 
Of settled, sweet Epicurean life. 

Tennyson, 



Clje ^ast §l0se of Sumnur. 



IS the last rose of summer 

Left blooming alone ; 
All her lovely companions 

Are faded and gone ; 
No flower of her kindred. 

No rosebud is nigh. 
To reflect back her blushes. 

Or give sigh for sigh. 

Pll not leave thee, thou lone one. 

To pine on the stem ; 
Since the lovely are sleeping, 

Go sleep thou with them. 
Thus kindly I scatter 

Thy leaves o'er thy bed. 
Where thy mates of the garden 

Lie scentless and dead. 

So soon may I follow. 

When friendships decay, 
And from love's shining circle 

The gems drop away. 
When true hearts lie withered, 

And fond ones are flown. 
Oh ! who would inhabit 

This bleak world alone ? 

MuoRi. 



227 

Me quoque, uos ueluti, securum agitare putabam, 
Scilicet inuidia aegra mihi, deeratque libido, 
NuUus opum, non uUus amor uesanus honorum, 
Non epulae, nisi quum platani pinusue sub umbra, 
Cum sociis stratis per gramina, pocla iuuaret 
Sumere, quae dumtaxat ut arderemus amice 
Efficerent ; nunc hie rationem exponere rerum 
Gaudebat, nunc ille suam : nihil inde subibat 
Quo turbarentur uitae ornamenta serenae, 
Suauis, et ad normam ipsius directa Epicuri. 

H. M. H. 



goBU @ua f '^C0ntm Btxu Porrfitr. 

Wn ! rosa sola uiget praestantior omnibus una, 
S>>Ouae fuit aestiui sola relicta chori : 
Deperiere olim comites, Paestana propago : 
Non honor est uariis qui fuit ante comis. 
Conscia quae rubeat, suspiria corde uicissim 
Quae reddat socio, iam rosa nulla manet. 
Non ego te solam, florum regina, relinquam, 

Ne roseum macies occupet aegra decus : 
Altus habet comites pulcras sopor : ipsa quiescas : 

Consocietque unus quas color una quies. 
Sic, florum decus, ipsa manu tua gaudia fundam, 

Et direpta solo serta comasque dabo, 
Dormit ubi comitum quondam tibi fida caterua, 

Et moritur, uixit qui tibi mixtus, odor. 
Me quoque mox eadem capiat uia, fugerit olim 

Quidquid amicitiae quidquid amoris erat, 
Quum marcere decor gemmis inceperit illis, 

Quas habuit Paphiae lucida mitra deae : 
Num quis erit nullo quem iam comitante muarit 
Vadere non socio per loca trita pede ? 

W. R. B. 



228 



POEMS WRITTEN IN DISCIPLESHIP* 

III. OF THE SCHOOL OF WILLIAM BLAKE. 



^araiiisc fast. 



f 



N the woodlands wild 

I was once a child^ 

Singing, free from care, 

Wandering everywhere. 

Angels went and came, . 
Like spires of blissful flame- 
All among the flowers, 
Fed with virgin showers. 
Angels went and came, 
CalFd me by my name. 

But a Serpent crept 
On me as I slept, 
Stung me on the eyes. 
Woke with sick surprise. 

And a Demon came 
With a face of shame, 
Spoke my sudden doom. 
Naked in the gloom. 

Then a dreadful sound 

Pealed through heaven's profound ', 

All my lonesome places 

Were filFd with dreadful faces ; 

Everywhere a face 

Full of my disgrace. 

* These poems are in no sense parodies, but intend to be affectionate studies 
or sketches in the nianner of some of the masters of song. 



229 



faked, in despair, 
v_ Ashes on my hair, 
Menace everywhere, 
I fled from palUd Care : 

Weak as lamb new yeanM, 
FollowM by the Fiend, 
With his whip of wires 
Red with my desires. 

Soon a Sage drew near. 
Clad my stripes in fear, 
Bade me weep and wait. 
At a temple gate. 

But a Maiden came 
With tender hands of flame, 
And by secret ways 
She led me, many days. 

In the woodlands wild, 
Now no more a child ; 
Among seraphs bright 
I clothe my limbs in light. 

W here the children sleep, 
" Like a snake I creep ; 
Kiss them on the face 
For their greater grace. 



J. T. 



230 

IV. OF THE SCHOOL OF MR. LONGFELLOW. 

Ij^ILENCE sleeping on a waste of ocean — 
i>ii)Sun clown — westward traileth a red streak — 
One white sea-bird^ poised with scarce a motion. 

Challenges the stillness with a shriek, 
Challenges the stillness, upward wheeling 

Where some rocky peak containeth her rude nest ; 
For the shadows o^er the waters they come stealing, 

And they whisper to the silence, '' There is Rest." 

Down where the broad Zambesi River 

Glides away into some shadowy lagoon. 
Lies the antelope, and hears the leaflets quiver, 

Shaken by the sultry breath of noon ; 
Hears the sluggish water ripple in its flowing; 

Feels the atmosphere, with fragrance all-opprest ; 
Dreams his dreams, and the sweetest is the knowing 

That above him, and around him, there is Rest. 

Centuries have faded into shadow ; 

Earth is fertile with the dust of man^s decay ; 
Pilgrims all they were to some bright El-dorado, 

But they wearied, and they fainted, by the way. 
Some were sick with the surfeiture of pleasure ; 

Some were bow^l beneath a care-encumberM breast ; 
But they all trod in turn Life's stately measure, 

And all paused betimes to wonder, ^^ Is there Rest?'' 

Look, O man ! to the limitless Hereafter, 

When thy Sense shall be lifted from its dust. 
When thy Anguish shall be melted into Laughter, 

When thy Love shall be sever'd from its Lust. 
Then thy spirit shall be sanctified with seeing 

The Ultimate dim Thulc of the Blest, 
And the passion-haunted fever of thy being 

Shall be drifted in a Universe of Rest. 

P. S. I>. 



231 
(from CATULLUS.) 

/here the resounding surge's lash fell hoarse on Dia's 

mile tnwift-bounding bark away the traitor Theseus bore, 

Unconquer'd fury in her heart, doth Anadne gaze 

Nor th'nks she sles the thing she sees m her sp.r.t's w.ld amaze. 

Lo ! starting from beguiling sleep convulsively she stands. 
And finds herself forsaken upon the salt sea-sands ; 
The whde th' unheeding youth across the purp e waters rows, 
And g-es to the wild wandering wmds h.s bootless broken vows. 

Soon as she caught the distant boat with sorrow-streaming eyes, 
L k a mad MaLd turn'd to stone, wild wild E~ cr>es, 
T mpestuous throes of passion shook her heart w.th ell despa.r. 
She shrkks, she tears away the snood that fed her golden ha.r. 

She tears away the slender veU that shrmed her breast of snow. 

She tears away the bosom-band that hid the orbs below, 

Ind flung them from her, and the waves m the. unconscious 

Toy'd'wi'th them, as they rock'd and roU'd amid the curling 
spray. 

She cared not for the fine-wrought snood nor damty bosom^band 
That mingled with the brown sea-wrack and with the tawny 

Round Theseus still albeit 'twas he her heart with grief so wrung, 
Round Theseus still that bleeding heart with clasping tendrils 
clung. 

« And is it thus perfidious from my native land you bore. 
To leave me here forsaken upon this desert shore ? 
And is It thus departing the wrath of gods you ^P-". 
And, ah ungrateful ! to your home a perjured w.etch return . 



232 

" Could nothing bend that cruel soul to change its stern decree? 
Was there no pity in your breast that whispered thoughts of me? 
And when for flight your parting boat spread wide its fluttering 

wings, 
Theseus, did no remorseful thought tug at your false heart's 

strings ? 

" Not such the promises you gave when first you courted me, 
Not such the bliss you bade me seek across the dark blue sea ; 
But nuptial joys and bridal wreaths to crown my blushing brows ; 
Ah, now the winds have scattered all the music of your vows ! 

" Come, come, you fell Eumenides, whose serpent-cinctured brow 
Prefigures the black fires that burn within your hearts below ; 
You who chastise with scorpion whip men for their guilty deeds, 
O come and look upon the wrongs with which my bosom bleeds. 

" come and hear the vengeful curse that like a venomM dart 
My tortured spirit madly shoots from out my inmost heart. 
O let the wicked Theseus, that hardened heart of steel, 
Let Theseus and his kith and kin like retribution feel.-" 

Soon as she spoke the malison and pourM out all her wrath. 
Invoking gods and furies to cross the traitor's path. 
Heaven's ruler nods, and trembles earth, and o'er the ocean jars 
Hoarse muttering thunder, bows the sky, and shakes the glitter- 
ing stars. 

Meanwhile o'er Thesews' heedless mind oblivion settled dark. 
As into the Erecthean port he stcer'd the black-sail'd bark ; 
The mandates of his weeping sire no longer treasured he, 
Nor hoisted the bright signal sail to tell of victory. 

They say that vyhen the youthful chief was e'en in act to part 

From Attica, and full of hope on peril's path to start. 

His father strain'd him to his breast, and press'd with manv a 

tear, 
And mid his sobs pour'd these fond words of counsel in his ear: 



233 

" My son, more dear to me than life, whom now in vain I see 
Restored to cheer my waning age, once more away to flee. 
Son, whom thy fate and valour send to win a desperate prize. 
Or e'er thy comely form and face have satisfied mine eyes. 

" I may not scare away the gloom that casts o'er me its chill, 
I may not with a cheerful word dispel the sense of ill ; 
ril utter many a mournful plaint, with dust Til strew my hair, 
ril hang black canvass on thy ship to tell of my despair. 

'' But if th' Itonian goddess whose strong protecting hand. 
Defends our blood and guards the seats of the Erecthean land. 
Should grant thee with victorious hand to spill the monster's gore. 
Then treasure up my counsel, boy, within thy bosom's core. 

" Soon as your native hills again gleam faintly on the eye. 
Straight let your sail-yards lay once more their sable canvass by ; 
Run up once more the white sail as a signal flag for me. 
And let it tell the welcome tale of life and victory." 

These were the old man's parting words as he his son resign'd, 
These mandates Theseus treasured up within his constant mind ; 
But now in strange forgetfulness they glided from his breast. 
E'en as the passing cloudlet leaves the high hill's snowy crest. 

And now the old man watch'd his son from the mountain 

summit high. 
And as he gazed a gust of tears suff'used his fading eye ; 
But when above the ocean's rim the black sail looming rose. 
He rush'd, and in the foaming sea he buried all his woes. 

Thus Theseus, as he stepp'd beneath his father's roof once more, 

Felt something of the anguish poor Ariadne bore ; 

But still she watch'd with constant gaze across the mournful 

main, 
And sought for the receding bark she ne'er might see again. 

J. G. 



// 



234 



§ilc^'itntrer Sclhrrh. 

fAM monarch of all I survey, 
v^ Mv right there is none to dispute, 
From the centre all round to the sea, 
I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 

solitude ! where are the charms 
That sages have seen in thy face 1 

Better live in the midst of alarms 
Than reign in this horrible place. 

1 am out of humanity's reach, 

1 must finish my journey, alone, 
Never hear the sweet music of speech, 

I start at the sound of my own. 
The beasts that roam over the plain 

My form with indifference see. 
They are so unaccustomM to man 

Their tameness is shocking to me. 

COVVPER, 



M'T A neige a ses gaites, le soleil sa tristesse ; 
<ii^En son joyeux printemps la terre a ses langueurs ; 
Le bonheur jette une ombre, et des ans les rigueurs 
S' emoussent au front calme ou sourit la sagesse. 

Ici bas rien d'cntier; le deuil a Pallegresse, 
Le regret au plaisir, Pamertume aux douceurs, 

Tout se mcle en notre amc, ct sa supreme ivressc 

N'est qu\ni desir trompe qui s'eteint dans les pleurs. 

Et c'est pourquoi toujours, en son inquietude, 

ryhomme oscille, ct ne sait, cherchant l\)bscur lien 

Par (jui sont rattaches et le mal et le bien, 
Et Famour, et la mort, si la beatitude, 

Est proniesse ou mensonge, et si d^m Dicu nmct 

11 doit soutVrir Toutrage on hcnir le bienfait. 

DaNU'I. SrKRN 



^35 
gcsertis Solxts in (fris. 

B\ VA spectant oculi, late do iura tyrannus, 
W Aemulus est nullus, qui mea regna petat— 
Vndique, caeruleo qua cingitur insula ponto, 

In uolucres dominor montiuagosque greges. 
Vos infelices (non sic cecinere poetae) 

Queis hominum coetus deseruisse placet. 
O quanto melius uolgi perferre tumultum, 
Quam misera in solis regna tenere locis. 
Nil me desertum mortalia tangere possunt, 
Conficiam solus, quod mihi restat, iter. 
Humanas nunquam uoces audire iuuabit, 

Ipsius et terrent me mea uerba sono. 
Per latos errant luduntque animalia campos, 

Me secura uident, nee mea forma fugat, 
Insolitoque feras mansuetas more tuenti 
Insolito trepidant corda pauore mihi. 



W. R. 



^\^t ©racks mz ^umb. 

^NOW hath its cheer, the bright sun gloom defiles, 
^On earth's glad spring-tide falls a weariness : 
Joy casts a shadow : years do but caress, 

Not furrow, the calm brow where wisdom smiles. 

Nought perfect here below : mourning with mirth, 
Regret with pleasure, hope with deadening fears. 

Are mingled in our soul; its bliss, what worth ?— 
At best a vain desire, extinct in tears. 

And therefore in his restlessness man waves 
Now to, now fro, seeking the darkling link 
Which binds both good and ill, both love and death ; 
Doubting the very paradise he craves, 

He knows not, God being mute, if he shall shrmk 
And curse in bitterness, or bless in faith. 

R. A. 



236 



HY, why repine, my pensive friend, 
At pleasures slipt away ? 
Some the stern Fates will never lend, 
And all refuse to stay. 



I see the rainbow in the sky. 

The dew upon the grass ; 
I see them, and I ask not why 

They glimmer or they pass. 

With folded arms I linger not 

To call them back ; ^twere vain : 
In this or in some other spot, 

I know, they ^11 shine again. 

W. S. Landor. 



®n t^e Jfarcgohig gibinc ^acnts. 

HEN we for age could neither read, nor write. 

The subject made us able to indite : 
The soul, with nobler resolutions deckt. 
The body stooping, does herself erect : 
No mortal parts are requisite to raise 
Her, who unbodyM can her Maker praise. 

The seas are quiet, when the winds give o'er : 
So, calm are we, when passions are no more ! 
For then we know how vain it was to boast 
Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost. 
Clouds of affection from our younger eyes 
Conceal that emptiness, which age descries. 

The souPs dark cottage, battered and decayM, 
Lets in new light, through chinks that time has made. 
Stronger by weakness, wiser men become 
As they draw near to their eternal home. 
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, 
That stand upon the threshold oF the new. 

Kdmund Wallkr. 



^37 

^VID, quid querella, Postume, flebili 
c^Dilapsa luges gaudia? sunt enim 
Donare quae tristis recuset 

Parca^ neque ulla diu manebunt. 

Est ut nitescat nimbus in aethere ; 
Est ut nitescat ros quoque gramme ; 
Specto ', neque, ut specto, rogare 
Cur nitidi fugiant laboro. 

Per me recedant : nil moror ; irrita 
Incuriosus non reuoco prece ; 
Ni fallor, hue ipsi fugaces 
Aut alio referent nitores. 



f^^VVM nee prae senio legere aut plus scribere posscm. 



2^ Vt dictare queam studium et res praestitit ipsa. 
Corpore curuato turn demum accincta animae uis 
Consilium ad melius sursum sese ardua tolht; 
Nee corpus mortale opus est quo se leuet, expers 
Corporis ipsa potens laudes celebrare Parentis. 
Aequor uti placidum uento cessante quiescit, 
Sic nobis quoque mens, animi quum concidit aestus -, 
Rescit enim rebus quam praue gaudeat illis 
Quae fluitant, quas sors non euitabilis aufert : 
Id iuuenem fallit quod nube cupidinis acta 
Cernit iam senior, quantum insit rebus mane. 
Vt tenebrosa domus quassata aeuoque uieta 
Per rimas lumen iam plenius accipit intro. 
Sic macie ualidus, macie sapientior idem 
Fit uir quo propius sub iinem uenerit aeui ) 
Resque deumque hominumque simul, tellure relicta, 
Conspicit ingrediens insuetum limen Olympi. 

J- F- ^ 



238 



|ptrotr0tus in ^itlrlhr, 

[The original Gi-eek is added when it is deemed necvssarij.] 

i^ND leaving the Hyperboreans I went towards Lips and the 
^ West Wind, and going to the furthest point I came to 
a city named Dubhn, and what I heard, inquiring to the greatest 
extent; that I am going to relate. The people of Dublin adopt 
laws different from the laws of all other. countries; and among 
other things there are certain persons reserved' for this service, 
on whom it devolves to sweep up the mud of the streets upon 
certain parts of the street which are most frequented, and doing 
this they say they are making crossings. And concerning these 
things I made careful inquiry,^ and a certain priest told me that 
they do this in honour of the goddess Cloacina, whom they 
greatly honour, both in other respects, and also reserve the 
most populous part of their city for a sewer, which they keep 
open in honour of their goddess. Now for this purpose there 
are certain overseers^ appointed, whom they call the Corporation. 
And there was a poet in the city of Dublin who made many and 
beautiful poems, and they erected a statue in his honour, and 
also ordained certain other observances about the statue, which 
though I well know it beseemeth me not to describe. Now 
concerning the reason of these observances I cannot speak cer- 
tainly ; but, if it is fit to speak conjecturing,' it seems to mc 
that they have wished to honour him above all other men, by 
granting to him connnon observances as they give unto 'the 
goddess whom they especially revere. 

Concerning then what the priest told me, let thus much have 

* a-Ttohibs'/uTai. 

' [LiXi6U)V0i 

" 0-jx syy dr^iKsoji ilrrcn • u 6i yji'Jn lar, 7iK,u.at^6fM^,>\> Xsysiv. 



239 



been said; but what I saw in the city most of all deserving of 
description," that I shall relate.' There is in the midst of the 
citv next the treasure-house, a certain building, which in their 
language they call University, but the Greeks call it Academy^ 
And here especially they use laws different from those of all 
other men, for they celebrate' their year divided into three 
parts of four months, and each of these periods they call a 
term or end; but at the close of each term they hold a great 
assembly, and doing this they say that they are holding com- 
mencements. Moreover, having chosen one who no longer 
lectures, him they call senior lecturer,' but to the lecturers they 
give another name. And one of the priests, whom they call 
porters, being very skilled in legendary lore,^ told me that for- 
merly having chosen such as were very learned every year, these 
they honoured in other ways, and also gave medals of gold to 
the most learned, and of silver to those who were less learned ; 
but those who were most unlearned, and could answer few of 
the questions of the high priests, these they called respondents 
or answerers. Moreover, among other nations, their temples 
are built so as to face the East; but here the temple is bmlt 
towards the North Wind and Arctos. Likewise, having found 
out those women most oppressed by old age, these they keep 
as servants, calling them skips; now the Greeks call this word 
iKa4,pd,. But another priest told me that they are rightly called 
gyps, and that this word is adopted from the name which the 
Greeks use for a vulture.' 

Now there is, immediately on entering, a belfry, very great 
and beautiful, and on it are four statues, great m size' ; but 
one of the priests told me that these were the statues ot 
Hope, Faith, Charity, and the Head Porter; now he is a great 

^ ayoM^i. 

* rhv i'xi Tcov diriyric'sc^v. 

^ Xoyidoraro?. 

' fj^iyddii ih'iyakai. 



240 

man,' in great authority, on whom all the rest depend,' and 
corresponds to him who among the Persians is called the eye 
of the king. This then the priest told me ; but another priest 
seemed to me to be jesting, pointing out to me the temple of 
the Muses ; for it is evident, even to one not having heard before, 
but having seen it, whosoever at least has intelligence,^ that this 
is not a temple, neither of any other god, nor of the Muses ; and^ 
if it be fit to speak conjecturing, it seems to me that the building 
in front which they now call in their language the printing 
press, that formerly was the temple of the Muses, and that those 
of the present day speak rashly, transferring the name to another 
place. Now concerning these things there is told a sacred 
story. 

But what surprised me most of all the things there* was a 
contrivance which they call a clock, and which corresponds to 
the gnomon and sun-dial among the Greeks. And the priest 
told me that formerly this was so contrived, as not to corre- 
spond to the true hour of the day, but so as to want the fourth 
part of an hour of it. And he told me that there was a certain 
person to whom it was entrusted to keep back the clock, and 
that he was called Catechist, from the word which the Greeks 
use for keeping back.^ But, why the machine was so contrived, 
and how it happened that it is now adjusted so as to correspond 
to the proper time,^ I shall relate next in order. 

T. 

' i^ ol ojXXoi 'TrdvTs? d^rsarai. 

^ 5^Xa yap drj y.ai fin 'rr^ouxovffavri Idovri de, offrig yi cuvsffiv iyj^i» 

< rl hi a'TTCLvrm ^ciju/^-a fiiyiGrov /Moi sffri ruv ralrri. 

•' xaTiyitv. 

^ oxcti? hn a/ w^a/ ffvfi^aivuffi 'Tra^ayivofiivxi Ig ro diov. 







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